


The Guilty Ones

by Mahlf0ys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 7th Year AU, 7th year at hogwarts, AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, Dramione Fluff, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter - Freeform, Harry Potter AU, Hogwarts, draco malfoy x hermione granger - Freeform, draco x hermione - Freeform, dramione - Freeform, dramione smut, hogwarts fic, spring awakening - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 05:52:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14372292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mahlf0ys/pseuds/Mahlf0ys
Summary: Historical Dramione AU based on ‘Spring Awakening’. It’s 1891, a time of swift upheaval and rapid change, where the older Victorian values battle against more progressive outlooks. Amidst this, the Wizarding World is in turmoil: There’s talk of the Dark Lord Voldemort returning to power, of his followers quietly gathering and preparing. Aiming to quell the dissent emanating from the younger generation of wizards, Ministry Official Dolores Umbridge is dispatched to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in an effort to keep the rebellious teenagers in line, rather unsuccessfully of course. As the pressure builds both inside and outside the castle walls, will the young students buckle, or be able to carve out places for themselves in the swiftly changing world?





	1. The Bitch of Living

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Spring 1891
> 
>  Details: Hogwarts-era, 7th year Alternate Universe. Think of the timeline being pushed back: Events of 1st-3rd years stay the same, but Voldemort never returned during the Triwizard Tournament, instead Harry & Cedric tied as champions. 5th & 6th year were relatively-normal (or as normal as you can get at Hogwarts), but there have been early rumours of Voldemort being alive. The Order of the Phoenix are plotting, and Umbridge has been dispatched to Hogwarts to ‘settle’ things, replacing Dumbledore as head of the school.  
> The plot is partially based on Frank Wedekind’s play Spring Awakening and the Broadway musical, so characters are slightly OOC at points (given the time period and also their partial basis on Spring Awakening’s characters). A line break denotes a change of scene, and (x) (x) (x) denotes a change in perspective (the thespian in me reigns supreme). I originally aimed to make this a 2 part fic, but have got supremely carried away and it's now looking like more of a 4/5 parter!  
> I would definitely suggest reading the play (after reading the fic, so you can remain spoiler-free) & listening to the musical’s soundtrack, it’s fab. Also, this is my first HP fanfic and my first fanfic in a loooong time, please be kind!
> 
>    
> Warnings: Mature fic – Explicit heterosexual sex; A suicide attempt; Violence; Blood-prejudice; implied homosexual sex; reluctant D/s / D/s gone wrong; dark magic/curses.

 

“Girls, _Girls_! Settle down please. Yes, Miss Brown, that’s quite enough thank you, you and Miss Patil can giggle all you like in your own time. Now, onto the lesson-”

Dolores Umbridge paused and looked around the room at the 6th and 7th year girls assembled in front of her, waiting impatiently for her to continue. She averted her eyes from the eager young women, sitting in rows in the small classroom – choosing instead to look out beyond them, through the large window at Hogwarts’ expansive grounds.

“Now, some of my colleagues have decided that it is imperative we teach some kind of… _health education_ class here at Hogwarts. I myself do not see the need for this, you are but children, and anything you will need to know you will learn yourselves through experience as dutiful married witches.” She finished, sweeping her hands firmly down her pink robes, as if to physically cast off the awkward topic. She could feel the eyes of that interfering Nurse, Madam Pomfrey, on her back as she fumbled to find the right words. She had _explained_ to the matron that she was perfectly capable of teaching the young witches in front of her all they needed to know, but the overbearing woman had insisted on being there, claiming it was within her remit as Matron.

“Moving onwards-” the stout witch began again, before being swiftly interrupted by a loud voice emanating from a brunette witch sitting front and centre of the classroom, speaking out of turn even as her hand was raised in question.

“But Professor Umbridge, isn’t that point?” Said Hermione Granger, an expression of confusion alighting her soft features.

“Isn’t what the point, Miss Granger?” the Ministry official simpered, preparing herself inwardly for what was sure to be a trying interruption from the overly inquisitive witch. Some called Hermione Granger bright, the brightest witch of her generation in fact, but Dolores herself preferred to think of the young girl as simply obstinate.

“Isn’t it the _point_ that you are supposed to be teaching us exactly that: health education, ‘marital education’? So that we can go forth with clearer understanding-?” Hermione replied, brows knitting together in confusion.

“As I said, you are too young to be learning of the, _ahem_ , delicate interactions within a marriage. I feel-”

“But how are we going to be able to be good little wives who know what to do with our husbands?” Hermione questioned sarcastically, her frustration with the toad-like witch getting the better of her as she sat back in her chair, regarding the frowning witch in front of her with an air of defiance. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil promptly broke back into heaps of giggles, creating a wave of dissent and distraction that emanated out from the back of the room. Umbridge fisted her stubby hands in her gowns, trying to remain calm. Not for the first time, the High Inquisitor, now Headmistress of Hogwarts, regretted taking such an active lead in the reformation of the school. Not one to be discouraged though, she battled on, taking a deep breath, opening her mouth to retort, before being rudely interrupted again:

“I agree Professor Umbridge, we are not so far from marriageable age, and surely it would be better to learn these things from you, rather than… less educational sources, say?” Piped up a pretty ginger witch who was sharing the double desk with Miss Granger. Although phrased to pacify, Ginny Weasley’s eyes sparkled mischievously as she argued the older witch into a metaphorical corner.

“Yes, maybe we should ask Filch? He might be more obliging in telling us, since you are so clearly not.” Said a sharp voice belonging to one Pansy Parkinson, who sat, arms crossed, in a posse of scowling Slytherin girls. Umbridge had entered Hogwarts with a smug confidence, sure of gaining allies among her fellow snakes; this had been the case at the beginning of her tenure but any collaboration between the Slytherin wizards and their new Headmistress had slowly petered out (having been goaded on by multiple unfavourable ‘Educational Decrees’) and now all the young students seemed united in their hatred of the oppressive ministry official.

Silence fell as the squat witch gaped like a fish at the Syltherin girl’s shocking response. Lavender Brown later assured everyone at dinner she was _convinced_ Umbridge had been seconds away from exploding, having turned such a violent shade of puce and with a vein throbbing in her temple fit to burst. Suffice to say, the now-Headmistress did not explode, merely stutter out an indignant “Detention, Miss Parkinson!” before reluctantly continuing.

“All right then, fine! Although it feels highly inappropriate…” She said, shrilly, trying regain a modicum of calmness, wisps of mousey hair escaping from under the black velvet bow perched in her frizzy hair.

“For a woman to bear a child, she must, in her own personal way, she must... _love_ her husband. Love him, as she can love only him. Only him... she must love, with her whole... heart. There, now you know everything.” Professor Umbridge postulated, secretly having little experience of love or ‘marital relations’ herself. Behind her, Madam Pomfrey gritted her teeth, forcing herself not to interrupt the Ministry Official’s gibberish explanation.

Fortunately, Hermione Granger promptly did that for her: “Everything?! What about contraceptive spells, potions? What about childbirth? Are we to receive no education on any of these subjects? Vague euphemisms don’t teach us anything!” She exclaimed, her curls almost vibrating with her anger. The other witches’ faces held similar expressions of disbelief and annoyance, and a muttered whisper of ‘ _what a cop out_ ’ drifted out from the back of the classroom. A thin-lipped, snake-like smile spread slowly across Umbridge’s face, as her small eyes focussed in on the plump brunette witch in front of her.

“Now Miss Granger, what use would _you_ have of any of the spells you describe? I’m not quite sure how you are expecting to find a good wizarding husband, what with your obstinate attitude combined with your unfortunate station. I know you don’t know better _dear_ , given your upbringing, but do try and stay silent when your betters are speaking, _hmm_?” Professor Umbridge said, voice saccharine-sweet and laced with poison. The class fell silent at Umbridge’s bare-faced display of prejudice, with gasps and shocked mutters soon spreading like wildfire around the small room. Hermione blanched, but stared defiantly back even as tears pricked her eyes. “Now-” the Headmistress began again, in a slightly calmer voice, before being interrupted by the shrill ringing of the bell which signalled the end of the rather un-educational class. “It seems as if fate agrees with me. You are all dismissed. Quickly to your next classes now please girls.” The witch turned, shuffling through papers on her desk as she silently thanked Merlin for the end of a very trying hour.

* * *

 “Are you alright? That woman is a bloody nightmare. We need to tell someone about what she said-” Ginny began in a furious whisper as they hurried out of the room together.

“There’s no one to tell… anyway I’m fine.” Hermione reassured, although Umbridge’s words still churned around inside her head, raw and painful. She gritted her teeth, forcing the thoughts from her mind and trying to focus instead on ways to get the toad-like witch back.

“We’ve got to do _something_! Nobody else is doing anything… I don’t understand how the other teachers can allow this to happen!” Ginny gesticulated..

“They have little choice I suppose. Remember what Professor Lupin told us about Fudge being utterly paranoid of being usurped? This must be his way of trying to grasp some power back.” Hermione whispered in reply. They hadn’t seen their ex-professor since the Christmas holidays, which they’d spent as a group at the Burrow. The adults had spent the entire time cooped up together in the kitchen, planning for Voldemort’s anticipated return, while the ‘children’ (even those over 17) had been exiled to the rest of the house, much to their chagrin. Ginny went momentarily quiet at the sobering reminder.

“You’re right.” She then sighed. “In the meantime, I might _just_ about survive this year if we don’t have to do any more of those godawful ‘health lessons’ – that was the worst thing we’ve done in all our time at Hogwarts.”

“Yes, that lesson was _entirely_ pointless.” Hermione fumed, as the girls turned and headed towards the large entrance hall of the castle, aiming to spend their free class outside in the weak spring sunlight. “I could’ve spent that hour in the library, finishing off my Ministry application.”

“It probably did you good to get a bit of a break to be honest, you’ve been working far too hard recently – although scratch that, any time with Umbridge is the opposite of a break.” Ginny laughed, tossing her long hair over her shoulder and stepping through the large double doors of the castle.

The girls lapsed into silence as they strolled over the lawns, wandering down to where Harry and Ron were sitting by the lake. Suddenly, Ginny grabbed her older friend’s arm, pulling her back to face her before they reached the boys.

“Hermione? You know that, erm, charm you mentioned?”

“What charm?” Hermione replied breezily, tucking her thick hair behind her ears.

“The contraceptive one.” Ginny hissed quietly, her freckles disappearing behind a spreading blush.

“Oh. OH! _That_ charm. What about it?” Hermione now felt her blush spreading too.

“Yes, I was wondering, could you… teach it to me?” She muttered, then embarrassed, hurriedly continued: “Harry and I haven’t- you know… we’re planning on waiting til marriage anyway! I just-”

“Oh Ginny, don’t worry! I understand.” Hermione pacified the anxious girl. “I’m sorry, you know I would help you if I could… but I don’t know the charm either. I’ve seen it mentioned in books but nothing that actually tells me how to do it. The library’s books are very limited in some ways…” She finished, her dark brown eyes sliding away from Ginny’s hazel ones.

“How frustrating. I don’t know who to ask, I’d ask my mother but you know she would have an aneurysm at the thought of pre-marital relations.” Ginny giggled.

“Oh Merlin, I couldn’t even imagine asking _my_ mother! She wouldn’t understand why I would even want to know the charm post-marriage, let alone pre. Who wouldn’t want hundreds of children running around?” Hermione replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“Hundreds? Oh my, Hermione, so you and your future husband are planning to be very active then?” Ginny shot her friend a teasing look.

“Exactly, that’s why we’d need the charm.” Hermione replied impishly, prompting both girls to dissolve into fits of laughter, interrupted only by Ron’s call of ‘Hermione, Ginny? What are you two giggling about?’

Ginny rolled her eyes, smiling, linking her arms with Hermione as the two set off towards the boys splayed across the grass.

“How was potions? Did you miss us?” Ginny called teasingly to Harry and Ron as they approached.

“Rather uneventful really. Snape was his usual awful self, of course.” Harry shrugged, moving to make room for the girls to sit down with them under large willow tree by the water’s edge.

“You should count yourselves luckily, I’d have much rather been in Potions instead of being pulled out into that sorry excuse for a health class that Professor Umbridge hosted.” Hermione said.

“Yeah, right.” Ron snorted. “Easy for you to say – you get top marks in potions. And Umbridge’s can’t have been that bad, at least you didn’t get homework.”

“Shut up Ron, it was absolutely dire.” Ginny retorted, aiming a swift kick at Ron’s shin.

“You didn’t learn anything interesting then?” Harry grinned. Ginny flushed red.

“Unfortunately we didn’t.” She retorted with a giggle, lying back on the grass.

“You two are incorrigible. We’re expecting the proposal any day now you know.” Hermione smiled. Ron fake-retched at the couple, meeting Hermione’s eyes in mirth. She found herself grinning back, but suddenly caught herself and looked away, pulling out a scroll of parchment and a quill. “Harry, can you tell me the notes I missed today. I know we have the remedial lesson when you boys are in your ‘health class’ but I want to be ahead for it.” She said hastily.

“Yes, fine.” Harry replied distantly, still smiling at Ginny, pulling out his potions notebook from his satchel.

“I’m not sure why you even need it, if I’d done my NEWTS a year early I would spend this whole year lazing about.” Ron piped up, shaking his head.

“You laze about anyway.” Hermione only half-teased, unable to resist the chance to insult him.

“Yeah yeah – I need to go meet Lavender anyway.” Ron replied distantly, standing up and swinging his satchel over a broad shoulder.

“I thought we’d agreed to study together?” Hermione asked, mentally-kicking herself as soon as the words left her mouth.

_There goes my plan for not appearing needy…_

“Sorry, but I promised-”

“It’s fine! Really!” She replied shrilly, suddenly busying herself flipping through the pages of her over-filled notebook.

“Right so, we can skip the Latin practice of course, but I want to cover the Wideye potion again…” She breezily launched into a monologue of potion ingredients and translations with Harry, pretending to take no notice as Ron sloped off across the grass. They all went very quiet as soon as he was out of earshot, the only noise being the sound of Hermione scribbling furiously onto a scrap of parchment. Harry exchanged a grimace with Ginny, before tentatively speaking:

“Hermione-”

“He’s at perfect liberty to do whatever he likes, Harry.” Hermione said icily, snapping the book shut loudly enough to make them both flinch. “I just wish he’d _told_ me.”

“I know; he was a complete arse.” Ginny immediately agreed, laying a comforting hand on Hermione’s arm.

“I know we weren’t officially engaged, and it’s not like I’m _in love_ with him or anything…”

“We all thought it was going to happen.” Harry admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

“Yes, I thought you’d be married before I would be, to be honest.” Ginny added tactlessly, then flushed when realising what she’d said.

“…and then I find him _kissing_ her, if you can even call that kissing, pressed up against the wall like that.” Hermione raged on, totally oblivious to the other two’s comments. She went quiet for a few moments, then added in a very small voice: “Do you know what it’s like to have admit to your parents, who’ve been openly planning your marriage for _seven years_ , that suddenly there’s no wedding and no betrothed?”

Ginny nodded comfortingly, and tears pricked Hermione’s eyes as she continued: “And to have everyone you have ever known also know this fact, and thus treat you as the jilted, broken-hearted little ex-fiancée?”

Both Harry and Ginny were stunned into an awkward silence at her words, broken only by Harry’s unhelpful stammering. Hermione couldn’t make out much more than a series of ‘er’s’ and ‘um’s’, alongside a cough and a mutter of Ron’s name. When it came to being comforting, Harry could often fall very short of the mark, particularly when the situation concerned Ron. She knew Harry would do anything for her – except be disloyal to Ron, it seemed. He would always come first in Harry’s eyes. She sighed deeply, pulling the scattered papers into her lap. “Anyway, back to revision. The Draught of Living Death…” She launched back into school work, forcing herself to push down that horrible feeling of betrayal that so often seemed to plague her. 

* * *

 Indeed, the boys’ potions lesson had been very uneventful for Harry and Ron. For Theodore Nott, on the other hand, potions was a different matter entirely. Those moving in Death Eater circles knew of the hatred shared between Theodore Nott Sr. and Severus Snape, a hatred the latter was now delighting in taking out on the former’s son. The classroom was hot and dark, and Theo found himself drifting off at the rhythmic Latin chanting Snape was making the boys do.

_“…litora, multum ille et terris iactatus et alto…”_

Theo slowly stopped mouthing along, resting his head in his hand as the wood of the desk went blurry in front of his eyes.

_“…vi superum saevae memorem Iunonis ob…”_

His eyes slowly fluttered shut, and his breathing was just getting even when he felt Draco’s bony elbow jab him between the ribs. He jerked awake to Snape’s sharp voice, ringing out in the now silent classroom:

“I said, Mr Nott, perhaps you could be so kind as to tell me the third ingredient of Wideye Potion? Since you are so clearly proficient in Latin you can bypass the learning exercises and go straight onto translations?” The hook-nosed professor continued, bearing down over the dark-haired wizard in front of him.

“Um… is it… Lacewing Flies?”

“Wrong, as expected. I’m sure even Longbottom could have told us the correct answer, which is, of course, Billywig Stings.”

“Yes Professor.” Theo muttered.

“Let’s try it again shall we? How many mistletoe berries would one add to the Antidote to Common Poisons?”

“T-three, sir.”

“Do you want to cure your subject or speed up the killing process? Merlin alive Nott, you are an utter disgrace. I can’t quite believe-” Snape stopped abruptly as Draco Malfoy stood up at his desk.

“Professor, maybe Theo was referencing the older Wolfecroft version of the potion, which suggests three mistletoe berries, as opposed to Jigger’s textbook suggestion of two?” Draco said, levelling his grey eyes at his Godfather and teacher. The two shared a tense look for a split second, before Snape slowly drawled: “Don’t make excuses for the wretched, Mr Malfoy. Sit down please. And Nott – detention for your insolence.” The tall professor turned, flicking his wand at the blackboard. Theo gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep his eyes on the board; Spidery rows of writing appeared instantly, informing the class of the potion they had to brew before the hour was up.

* * *

“-hate him so much. So what if I cannot remember minute details of rare potions at the drop of a hat? It doesn’t stop me from being able to brew them. Sorry Draco, I know he’s your godfather...” Theo raged as the boys walked out of the classroom an hour later, the fumes of their perfectly-brewed Wiggenweld Potion still permeating the air.

“He’s being extraordinarily harsh. It’s one of his strengths really, the ability to bear unending grudges.” Draco commiserated. “I’ll talk to him again-”

“There’s no point. We’ll get our Christmas exam results soon, and then if I can just get through the summer NEWTS we’re finished… I’m just so tired.” Theo sighed, rubbing a large hand across his face.

“You do look exhausted.” Draco remarked, eyeing over his oldest friend. “Are you not sleeping well?”

“I’ve been having these… dreams.” Theo muttered quietly so only Draco could hear.

“What kind of dreams, like nightmares?” The blond regarded him quizzically.

“N-no, not as such. It’s like… Legs in sky blue stockings, right up to the top of the thigh, climbing over a teacher’s desk.” Theo mumbled, averting his eyes from Draco’s cool gaze.

“Oh, _That_ kind of dream.” Draco smirked knowingly.

“Indeed. Have you ever suffered such... _mortifying_ visions?”

“Of course, Theo! We all have.” Draco replied, laughing. “Goyle once told me he dreamt he was seduced by McGonagall.”

“Seducing McGonagall, my, my, this sounds like an intriguing conversation.” Came the smooth, deep voice of Blaise Zabini from behind them, his dark eyes bright and knowing.

“We were just discussing girls. And dirty dreams.” Draco smirked, eyeing Blaise mischievously.

“I’ve had a fair few of those. I daresay mine are rather different than yours though.” Blaise drawled, a small smile quirking his full lips. It was private knowledge within the students that Blaise had rather divergent tastes, namely ones that excluded girls.

“See look Theo, even Blaise suffers from explicit dreams. Don’t let it bother you.” Draco reassured his oldest friend. Theo nodded, smiling slightly as Blaise butted in with a wide grin- ‘I wouldn’t say ‘ _suffers_ ’ exactly…’ trailing off as Neville Longbottom walked by. Draco watched Blaise’s eyes follow Neville, as the handsome boy called after him:

“Where are you off to Longbottom?”

“L-library. I’ve got some Herbology research to do.” Came the stuttered reply from the gangly Gryffindor.

“I’ll walk with you.” Blaise said smoothly, stepping towards Neville.

“You will?” Neville asked hopefully, a small blush spreading across his already reddened cheeks.

“Yes, we’ll do that Herbology research together, if you will.” Blaise countered suggestively. Neville nodded in acquiescence, looking quietly pleased as the pair set off up the stairs.

Gregory Goyle barrelled out of the dungeon classroom shortly after, following the pair up the stairs and nodding in goodbye as he passed Draco and Theo.

“Off to remedial Transfiguration, Goyle?” Draco asked, trying and failing to repress a smirk.

“Professor McGonagall will not be kept waiting.” Goyle replied with an involuntary shudder, climbing up the stairs out of the dungeon. Draco winked at Theo, who just shook his head in reply.

“Oh Draco, a two-foot essay on Strengthening Solution, plus all that Transfiguration work, and the bloody dream diary for Divination. And I’ll be up all night again, haunted by another of those nightmares.” Theo sighed, frustratedly.

“Oh, yes. Your ‘ _dream’_.” Draco couldn’t repress his bemused smirk as the pair set off towards the Slytherin dormitories.

“I just don’t understand, why-why am I haunted by the legs of a woman? By the deepening conviction: some dark part of my destiny may lie there between them...?”

“I didn’t realise you’d set up a Shakespeare Society at Hogwarts.” Draco teased, laughing at Theo’s flowery descriptions of his dreams. “It’s not so much philosophical as biological… Did your father never explain things to you? ‘Marital relations’? Sex?” He continued, sarcastically using air-quotes to punctuate his sentence. Theo blushed.

“My father doesn’t tell me very much of anything, unless he can help it. I know the basics I suppose…” Theo glanced away, embarrassed.

“Well… I’m sure that’s enough.” Draco stated pragmatically. “At least your father keeps to himself. Mine, on the other hand, was rather _too_ forthcoming in the information department. He even had a half-notion of taking me to a brothel on my 15 th.”

“Draco… you didn’t…?” The brunet boy prompted, dreadfully curious and slightly disgusted, all at once.

“Merlin, no. My poor mother heard about it and intervened. Thankfully the temptation to disobey her lessened significantly once he found out I was no longer a virgin.” Theo nodded. It had been a scandal within their Slytherin year group when it was discovered that Pansy had given up her prized virginity to Draco when they were both 16. After the news broke, Draco had strutted around like a peacock for weeks, but had drunkenly divulged to Theo and Blaise one night that he’d only done it to get his overbearing father off his back.

_‘Now I know the reason why’_ Theo thought with a shudder, as the pair let themselves into the shared dormitory to get started on homework.

* * *

Hermione wrestled with the hairbrush, staring at her increasingly frizzy hair in the mirror as everyone chattered around her.

_‘One hundred strokes, every night_ ’ Her straight-haired mother had instructed her since childhood, even buying her a new brush when she left for Hogwarts aged 11. Hermione had listened, and tried, even though her frizzy curls seemed incompatible with the expensive boar bristle, or any hair product for that matter. Still, tonight it provided welcome distraction from the chatter of the girls around her. The seventh year Gryffindor girls plus Padma and Luna from Ravenclaw, and Ginny, of course, were sitting in the circular room of the Gryffindor seventh year girls’ dormitory, clad only in their long nightgowns. They had been giggly and gossipy for days, particularly since Umbridge’s ‘health class’ a few days previously.

Putting away her brush and strolling over to join Ginny on the four-poster, she realised rather too-late that she had chosen precisely the wrong moment to rejoin the conversation.

“I, for one, cannot wait to be married!” Simpered Lavender Brown, tossing her wavy blonde hair over her shoulder.

_‘I bet she’s never had to cut a comb out of_ her _hair’_ Hermione thought absently, now absurdly jealous over the girl’s smooth, shiny hair, as well as everything else.

“Yes, we all know who you have your eye on Lavender. A certain redhead by the name of Ron Weasley by any chance?” Padma teased. The blonde witch flushed slightly and grinned. “His family has invited mine to the wedding of his older brother Percy in the summer. I think it’s so they can all plan for our inevitable marriage.” She giggled, trying and failing not to look at Hermione.

“I still wish Ron was marrying you instead of this _airhead_.” Ginny whispered thoughtlessly to Hermione, thankfully masked by the other girls’ loud giggling. The brunette witch acknowledged her with a slightly strained smile, somewhat embarrassed by her friend’s comment.

It had been a hard few weeks since Hermione had discovered Ron and Lavender embracing on the 4th floor stairwell. Ron’s announcement of his deep love of one Lavender Brown and their intention to marry after graduation followed swiftly afterwards, as had the sudden crumbling of Hermione’s self-esteem.

Ever since her friendship was kindled with Ron Weasley as first years at Hogwarts, it had been widely assumed that they would eventually marry, as befitting of young compatriots of a certain age and class. Hermione hadn’t had strong feelings either way – she cared for the ginger wizard as a close friend, and apparently that would be enough. ‘ _Romance is for novels, not for reality’_ her mother had always impressed upon her, and Hermione had no choice but to reluctantly agree. Not that any of it mattered in the end.

A high-pitched call of “Hermione?” Broke suddenly through her little reverie, and she flushed, realising the other girls were all staring at her.

“Sorry, I was distracted, what were you saying Lavender?” She stuttered out, self-consciously tucking her unruly hair behind her ears.

“I said, have you got your eye on anyone in particular? It would be nice to bring a betrothed to Percy’s wedding, wouldn’t it?” Lavender tittered.

“No, I’ve not thought much about it. You know I’d like to work on my career when we graduate, marriage can come later.” Hermione replied defiantly, bending the truth slightly – she had thought about marriage constantly over the last few weeks, more than she ever had over the entire rest of her life. She was deadly honest in one thing though; she knew with surety that she would never sacrifice her career for matrimony.

“Careful now, you don’t want to leave it too late – blink and you’ll be an old maid!” Lavender giggled, her voice slightly hard under the girlish laughter. Hermione gritted her teeth, biting back a harsh reply, even as Ginny jumped to her defence:

“Hermione will have no trouble finding a brilliant husband, ‘Lav-Lav’.” Ginny rolled her eyes. Ron and Lavender’s betrothal had created a rather tense, public enmity between the future sisters-in-law, with Ginny being fiercely, if somewhat overly, protective of Hermione. Before Hermione could say anything, Luna piped up, hot on Ginny’s heels: “Yes, and she’ll be holding down a wonderful career. If anyone can have a successful marriage _and_ job it’s our Hermione.” The blonde girl smiled reassuringly, looking up from her sewing. She was darning a pair of blue silk stockings with red thread, insistent that Blibbering Humdingers were attracted to the colour.

“Well, It’s not like we have a shortage of eligible men, is it? I’ve got my eye on Draco Malfoy for one, he is positively _dreamy_.” Parvati swiftly picked up the thread of the old conversation, lying back on her four-poster bed.

“Mmm yes, he is gorgeous. That hair, and those grey eyes…” Ginny smirked.

“Ginny Weasley! I’m surprised you can have eyes for anyone but Harry; you’ve found yourself a handsome catch there.” Padma giggled.

“I know- I’m so lucky. But it doesn’t stop me admiring.” Ginny laughed gaily, twirling her smooth hair between her fingers. “Plus they say he’s the richest heir in England. Money is a _very_ attractive prospect.”

“Yes! Oh to be rich. And there’s something so dark and mysterious about him.” Lavender sighed.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her roommate’s unoriginality. _Of course the son of Death-Eaters would be ‘dark’ and ‘mysterious’ – it comes with the territory surely?_

“He’s the best at everything, minus you of course Hermione, and he doesn’t even care. What a radical…” Padma mused.

“I think his friend is much more appealing. The dark one. He’s so handsome.” Luna broke in, a faint blush on her pale cheeks.

“Who? Theodore Nott?!” Lavender squealed.

“Yes. He’s such a sad and soulful sleepyhead.” Luna smiled dreamily. Parvati snorted, then unsuccessfully tried to turn it into a cough.

“Good on you Luna.” Ginny replied encouragingly.

“Yes, he does have a sort of quiet charm, I suppose.” Hermione agreed diplomatically. Naturally she’d support her dreamy friend, but honestly she’d even back up a troll at this point if it shared an opposing viewpoint to Lavender.

Padma and Parvati exchanged a scathing look about Luna, while Lavender giggled unkindly.

“I don’t think you can compare Malfoy and Nott, really. I know which one I’d much rather wed.” Padma crowed.

“-and bed!” Interjected Lavender with an impish grin. The trio of girls broke into raucous giggles as Luna simply smiled vacantly in reply.

“Yes, Looony, er, Luna, I rather think-”

“Shouldn’t you both be heading off soon anyway?” Interjected Ginny, nipping Parvati’s unkind teasing in the bud.

“Yes you’re right, Filch would have our guts for garters if he caught us wandering the halls at this hour.” Padma replied, rising from her seated position on her sister’s four poster.

“Coming Luna?” She asked, already moving towards the dormitory door.

“Bye everyone.” The pale blonde said sweetly, before exiting the room with Padma.

“I better head off too.” Ginny added, masking a yawn and standing up.

“Bye Gin.” Hermione smiled, feeling the ginger witch squeeze her shoulder in reply.

The remaining girls got into bed, Parvati and Lavender silent for the first time that evening, feigning sleep while Hermione read. The very second she nox’d the light though, the whispers started, as they did every night. She heard her name thrown in several times, alongside Ron’s of course, and even the word ‘spinster’ at a couple of points. That horrible, achey-throat feeling from this afternoon, betrayal and sadness and loneliness all mixed up, threatened to came back once more, but this time she felt the tears looming. She heard the soft pad of paws and felt Crookshanks settle next to her on the bed, curling against her warm body as he did most nights. She fell asleep like that, one hand stroking in his matted fur as the silent tears slipped down her cheeks. 

* * *

 Two days later and Hermione was striding through the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, aiming to get as far away from Hogwarts as possible. She craved an afternoon devoid of pitying looks and Lavender’s simpering, and hoped a walk on the far side of the lake could deliver this. She thanked Merlin that the grounds were so expansive that she could wander for hours and not be found.

_How long could I disappear for til someone noticed I was gone? Harry’s focussed on Ginny, Ginny’s focussed on Harry, Ron on Lavender…_

A faint tearing noise stirred her out of her thoughts, and she looked down in time to see her long skirt rip as it caught on the low bushes of the forest.

“Bother!” She muttered, reaching down to disentangle herself from the tendrils of a rather nasty looking bramble patch. A cough startled Hermione further, causing the bottom half of her skirt to fully tear away, exposing her grey-stockinged knees. Stumbling forward, she tripped over a large root and went flying towards the ground, squeaking as she felt large arms catch her around the waist and help her upright.

“Granger.” Malfoy smirked, nodding his head in greeting as he stepped back from her, his blond hair shining in the dappled light of the clearing.

“Dra- Malfoy. Thank you.” Hermione flushed, sliding her eyes away from his strange silver gaze.

“Like a tree-nymph fallen from the branches.” He teased. “What are you doing alone out here?” He asked, eyeing her torn dress.

“Just having a walk. Getting away from the castle for a bit. Yourself?” She said, staring back at Malfoy defiantly. Sympathy flashed in his pale eyes, and she looked away with a sigh as he replied: “The same really. This is my favourite spot. My private place, for thinking.”

“Oh. I'm sorry, I’ll-” She stepped back, aiming to move out of the clearing when Malfoy caught her arm.

“No, no. Please.” He released her swiftly, but the place where he had touched her throbbed, the skin beneath her long dress warm and flushed. She nodded, keeping her eyes averted.

“So... how have you been doing?” He smirked disarmingly, and she had to resist the temptation to smile back. She’d always had a soft spot for that particular smirk, secretly disagreeing wholeheartedly whenever Harry and Ron called it ‘ferrety’.

“Same as always. Studying mostly, trying to finish the Ancient Runes translations.” She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

“I remember when we used to do that together.” Malfoy said, staring at Hermione intensely. She flicked her eyes towards him and then looked away again quickly.

“Yes… it was nice to have someone else to study with. It’s a shame your parents put a stop to it.” She replied tightly. Malfoy visibly stiffened at the hardness present her quiet voice.

As first years, Malfoy and Hermione had quickly recognised mutual academic talent, gravitating towards each other to share notes, ideas, theories. Malfoy’s parents had found out midway through their second year, and had banned him from interacting with her again, with his reluctant compliance.

“My parents are… very difficult people. They’ve put a stop to a great many things over the years. My father thought it was for the best-”

Hermione simply raised her eyebrows scornfully at Malfoy’s paltry excuses. She shook her head minutely.

_Some things never change…_

She made to leave when he continued: “-but it wasn’t for the best, I know that now. I should never have let them talk me into agreeing – I was an idiot.” Malfoy said quietly, his grey eyes staring at her cautiously. Hermione regarded him carefully for a moment, her expression guarded. He looked so sincere, and Malfoy being truly, bluntly sincere was such a rarity. His pure honesty was surprising, and honestly a little touching. Hermione nodded in lieu of a reply, hoping she wouldn’t be regretting this later. She watched him carefully: a boyish, delighted grin flitting across his face briefly before the familiar Malfoy facade shuttered back into place; he nodded sharply back at her, his blond fringe falling over his eyes the only thing disrupting his polished, aristocratic image. He smoothed it back, and continued speaking, almost as if the moment of candour had never occurred: “Would you like to study together now? I want to pick your brains on the Runes definitions.” Draco gestured towards a large oak tree, his satchel resting on the ground beneath its reaching branches. She hesitated.

_What was there to lose?_

_(x) (x) (x)_

“Alright, I’ll take a look.” Granger replied, moving past him and plucking the runes sheet out of his satchel. He watched her amber eyes skim it, her face suddenly filled with a familiar blazing look he remembered. She wore that self-same expression even as first year – eyes bright and lips pursed as she pored over piles of ancient books.

“See, Hagalaz can be translated more broadly as ‘crisis’ and not just as the traditional usage of ‘bad weather’. I think using this alternate definition may fit better here.” She interrupted his musings, one small finger pointing out the place on the old parchment. He walked to her in two long strides, taking the paper back off her and quickly reading through it.

“Yes, that makes a lot more sense.” He smirked down at her, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. He relished their proximity, having sorely missed the opportunity to be this close to her, and alone at that.

As if thinking the same thing, Granger suddenly stumbled back, breaking the eye-contact. Draco had to resist the temptation to draw close to her again.

“What time is it?” She asked quickly, covering the slightly awkward moment.

“It must be close to five.” Draco offered.

“Oh? I thought it was later. I paused and lay so long in the moss by the stream, and just let myself dream...” Granger replied dreamily, peering up at the sky, as if trying to ascertain the time from the sun’s position.

“Then can't you sit for a moment?” Draco offered, stepping towards the petite brunette once more. “Leaning back against this oak, staring up at the clouds, it’s one of the only times I feel truly relaxed.”

“We’ve got to be back for dinner soon.” She replied, making no move to turn from him.

“Come on, I’ll let you test me on Ancient Runes some more.” Draco encouraged, passing the translation sheet back to the now-smiling witch.

“Well, just for a little while then.” She conceded, making her way over to the soft grass beneath the oak. Draco watched her sit down against the tree, fruitlessly trying to arrange her torn skirt to cover as much leg as possible.

_Thank Merlin for spring walks and bramble patches…_

He realised he would just have to do his best to keep his eyes off her stockinged legs. A sudden image of Theo and his haunting dreams crept into Draco’s mind, and it took insurmountable effort to try and supress the thought of Granger perching daintily on a desk, skirt pulled up to expose the tops of her wide, stockinged thighs.

He crossed to sit next to her, leaning his broad back against the base of the tree. Granger pulled his notebook out of his satchel and was flicking through his notes, and launched into work: examining his hypotheses on different Elder Futhark translations, explaining her own theories and asking for clarification on his. Draco listened and replied, nodding along as she spoke, privately enlightened by her ideas.

“-and I found out that this often comes up on the NEWTS exam.” She chattered away, his ears pricking at the reference to NEWTS as she pointed out one runic section, circling the heading with one of his fine quills.

“Yes, I’d heard about you doing your NEWTS early, Granger, how utterly predictable.” Draco smirked, shooting her a look. Granger smiled widely, thankfully seeing the hidden compliment in his words.

“Professor McGonagall had to apply for a special dispensation from the Ministry. We thought if I got all the vital exams done last year I could focus on some of the other ones this year, hence the fact I’m _still_ doing Ancient Runes.” She laughed. “Ron doesn’t see the point though; he just keeps asking why I even bothered coming back.” He watched her face fall with her words.

“Of course he does.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Potter at least has a modicum of intelligence, I’ll grant him that, but Weaselbee is simply an idiot.” He drawled.

“That he is.” She agreed quietly.

Draco was surprised at her rare expression of disloyalty; she would ordinarily defend her oafish friends to the death. Draco could only presume this had ceased to be the case when it came to one Ronald Weasley.

“Yes, I heard about his recent betrothal – although I had heard a whisper previously that you two were betrothed.” He continued, hoping he wasn’t putting the cat among the pigeons _too_ much with his words. Granger opened her mouth, eyes flashing, and he pressed on, getting in before she spoke: “He and that flower girl seem far better suited, if I may say so, she seems rather a dolt.” He knew he’d hit the right note when she bit back a smile.

“You know her name is Lavender.” She bit back a smile, mock-tutting at his words. “And Ron and I were never truly betrothed. In assumption and thought only.” She continued, slightly more acerbically.

“And in feeling-?” He prompted further. They were dancing on the abyss, and it was like Draco was in an airless vacuum as he waited for her reply.

“I didn’t love him, if that’s what you’re asking.” Granger replied pointedly, sending them both tumbling in. The air zipped back and Draco could hear the birds chirp once more as he grinned back at her.

“Anyway, you never finished your Latin translations.” Granger prompted hastily, her cheeks flushing appealingly in what Draco guessed to be mild embarrassment. She picked up his notebook and pressed it into his hands.

“You genuinely want to listen to my boring translations?” He teased.

“Yes, I do.” The petite witch replied boldly, gesturing for him to read.

“On your head be it.” He smirked, opening the notebook and beginning to read.

As the afternoon meandered on, Granger relaxed sleepily – at some point she had moved to sit fully by Draco, and eventually they were pressed together, her left side flush to his right. He was midway through reading out another translated passage when he felt her head drop onto his right shoulder, her breathing having gone deep and steady. Draco stopped reading, closing his notebook gently and looking down at the sleeping girl. Her long, bushy hair flowed down his chest, and she had curled into him, her stocking legs tucked tightly against his. He drank it all in: her dark lashes resting on cheeks dusted with freckles, her small, snubbed nose, her rosy mouth, plump lips gently parted. He revelled at the chance to stare at her face undisturbed, not sure if or when he’d have the chance again.

(x) (x) (x)

 Hermione stirred, at first only conscious of being warm and curled up.

_Like Crookshanks_ she thought, absentmindedly.

She slowly blinked her eyes open and yawned, then noticed the patrician blond smirking down at her. A split second later she was sitting bolt upright, apologising profusely to a smirking Malfoy.

“I’m so terribly sorry, I haven’t been sleeping so well and I must have just drifted off.” She exclaimed, overly aware of her flushed cheeks.

“Are my translations so boring that they send even the brightest of witches to sleep?”

“Not at all!” Hermione exclaimed. “Your voice is just so calming; I couldn’t help but be relaxed.” She said, more honestly than she had intended, her brain still addled by the impromptu nap.

_Merlin, I really need to THINK before I speak!_

“Glad to be of service.” Draco replied, a note of sincerity in his deep voice. Hermione craned her head up to look at the darkening sky above.

“The sun's setting, Malfoy. Truly, I'd better go.” She made to move, pushing her unruly hair off her shoulders. The tall wizard stood up, swinging his satchel over his shoulder before offering a large hand down to her.

“We'll go together. I'll have you at the castle in ten minutes.” He smiled reassuringly, looking remarkably un-Malfoylike for a second. She supposed Malfoys weren’t often reassuring. Hermione hesitated briefly, before taking his hand, allowing him to pull her onto her feet.

“Alright, Draco. Lead on.” She replied, her small, warm hand clutched tight in his. Neither of them could wipe the grins from their faces all the way back towards the castle.

 


	2. The Dark I Know Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, I don't own anything.
> 
> We're starting to get to the interesting stuff with this chapter! It's a lot more meaty, and look out for the sexy times ;). I paused my binge-watch of The Alienist (its SO GOOD) to edit and upload this, slightly earlier in the day than last week haha.
> 
> Same warnings apply (in the A/N on chapter 1).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Half an hour after her little interlude with Malfoy and Hermione was rushing through the castle, trying to get to Gryffindor tower and back as quickly as possible. She'd got back to the entrance hall – hand in hand! – with the tall, blond boy shortly before dinner started, but realised she couldn't attend without changing out of her ripped dress – hence the mad dash to her dormitory. Thankfully the corridors were totally empty as everyone was down in the great hall, taking their seats, chatting in groups, and speculating about the delicious offerings the house elves would serve up for the evening meal. Hermione was hurrying through the east wing of the 5th floor, trotting past the statue of Gregory the Smarmy when she heard it: small sobs echoing off the high stone walls. She creeped further along the corridor, past the swamp that Ron's brothers Fred and George had left as a parting 'gift' to Hogwarts on their departure, until she found the source of the crying.

Pansy Parkinson was sat in a window-seat alcove, her thin frame curled upon itself as she rested her head on her knees and sobbed. Hermione stopped short, not sure how to approach the distraught girl. They had never got on, with Pansy seemingly buying into her parents' pureblood ideals. Unlike her Slytherin compatriot, Pansy had not matured, and was content to tease and bully her endlessly.

Although part of her debated turning heel and leaving, the kinder, fairer side couldn't stand to leave anyone so obviously upset.

"Pansy? Whatever is the matter?" She asked, reluctantly approaching the dark-haired girl.

"Oh merlin, this is the last thing I need…" Pansy muttered, raising her head to stare blearily at the short witch in front of her. Hermione regarded the pureblood witch carefully as the girl messily wiped a hand across her weepy face, before resting her check back against her bony knees. Once Pansy made no move to storm off or curse her, Hermione risked it, pressing on: "Is there something I can do? Someone I can get for you?"

At this, Pansy broke into a fresh round of tears, her pug-like face screwing up in sorrow. Hermione moved forward, cautiously sitting down next to the girl on the narrow window seat.

"It's my father." Pansy said. "He-he wants me to come home for the Easter holidays. But I can't go back, I just can't-" she gasped out, breaking into heaving sobs.

"Why not?" Hermione blurted out, immediately mentally kicking herself for being so naïve.

"Do you know what its like living with a Death Easter?" Hissed Pansy, shooting Hermione a dark look. "He, oh merlin, he created this curse, c-called Pulsare. It means-"

"To strike." Hermione finished the other girl's sentence solemnly, her mind reeling at the Slytherin witch's revelation. She'd heard stories of the Death-Eaters' cruelty, whispered tales from the war, but the thought of it happening to a girl just like her was incomprehensible.

"Yes. A curse of his own invention, of course, that I hear is now  _very_  popular in the Death-Eater ranks." Pansy continued, sniffling, a hint of her familiar snarkiness bleeding through her words, even at this heart-wrenching moment. Hermione could only stare in horrified curiosity as the raven-haired witch began pulling up her dress. Pansy then rolled her stockings down, exposing skinny limbs marred with dark, splotchy bruises.

"He likes to make me l-lean over the bed. He says I'm insolent, unmarriable ... that I need to be b-broken in before any husband will have me." She whispered, her voice going very small.

"You don't mean-?" Hermione gasped, suddenly feeling more than a little nauseous.

"No,  _No_! Thank merlin, he just hits me."

"That's still  _awful_  Pansy… I'm so sorry." Hermione whispered, reaching over and clutching the Slytherin witch's hand. She sat, stock still for a second, brain whirring, before before standing up rapidly and trying to pull the other girl up with her.

"We must go to McGonagall or Flitwick. Even Snape, anyone would help!" Hermione pleaded. Pansy blanched, her dark features highlighted prominently against the sickly pallor of her skin.

"No, no, no, you can't tell anyone, please Hermione... he'll  _kill_  me if he finds out others know." The pug-faced witch moaned, drawing back into the alcove.

"But Pansy, they can stop him-" Hermione begged, sure she could do something, help in some way.

"No." Replied the other girl, decisively. "There's morning anyone can do. Besides- where would I go? What would I do? No inheritance, no betrothal, no livelihood? End up like  _Tracy_?" The girl let out a mirthless laugh, swiping at her splotchy face.

Hermione grimaced. It was well known gossip by this point: a few months earlier, Tracy Davis had rejected her parents' choice of betrothal, a strapping ex-Durmstrang student with a penchant for brewing banned poisons. This had left her penniless, disinherited and reliant on charity handouts from distant relatives. It was understandable that Pansy, raised in opulence as a prized daughter of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eights, would risk beatings not to end up the same way.

Hermione regarded the Slytherin witch sympathetically, squeezing the pale. Pansy froze momentarily, and for a second Hermione was sure she'd be on the receiving end of a hex, before the girl softened, flashing a small smile at her.

"Please don't tell anyone you found me like this." Pansy let out in a shaky exhale.

"I promise. I wish there was something I could do." Hermione replied, overly aware of how meek and helpless her words sounded.

"Dinner will be over soon." The Slytherin replied, dropping Hermione's hand with the swift subject change.

"Yes… shall we go down? Before all the food disappears." Hermione prompted cautiously.

"You go. I don't feel like eating as much these days." Pansy replied, turning away and beginning to walk off. She stopped at the turn in the corridor, looked back.

"Thank you. I've not always been so nice... but you have been very kind… Kinder than I deserve." She nodded, avoiding Hermione's gaze. Hermione watched as a cool, mask-like expression transformed Pansy's gaunt face, settling over her features and turning them disdainful and haughty once more. She turned back and turned the corridor without so much as another word, leaving Hermione utterly perplexed and rather shaken.

* * *

"Settle down, settle down!" rang out the shrill Scottish voice of Professor McGonagall. "I shan't pin these up until you're all quiet." Theo felt his stomach somersault in sickening anticipation. The assembled students promptly hushed, ceasing their pushing to get to the front where the large pin board hung.

"Now, before I proceed, I must impress on you: these are  _not_ your NEWT results, but the Christmas exams do give us a good idea of how you will score in your NEWTS come June, so it is imperative that you have done well." She regarded the students in front of her sternly, before swishing her wand, magically pinning the parchment list to the board. Draco and Theo were jostled forward as everyone surged towards the list, the small rows of names and grades near-invisible from further back. Theo found  _Nott, Theodore Cantenkerus_  quickly, his heart pounding as he scanned the spikily-written words. Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, he skimmed most of the classes impatiently, searching for one mark only. There it was, Potions, and next to it, a scrawled P. His stomach dropped and he pushed his way back through the small crowd, feeling vomit rise in his throat. He turned the corner and leant against the cool, stone wall, waiting for his nausea to subside. Draco's pale, pointed face suddenly appeared in his vision.

"Theo? Theo, are you alright?" The blond questioned, a rare note of worry tainting his aristocratic tone.

"I don't understand… I did all the potions correctly… how can he do this?" Theo asked, aghast, eyes staring blindly.

"He's being supremely unfair." Draco supplied sympathetically. Theo's brain churned and he couldn't find the words to even muster a reply, deciding instead to continue staring down at his feet numbly.

"Look, it's not the NEWTS, it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things-"

"Draco… if he's failing me on this he's going to fail me on the NEWTs as well…" Theo interrupted, snapping his neck up at the paltry platitude. Draco inclined his head in a wordless 'touché'.

"I'll talk to him,  _make_  him see sense-" Draco replied, his voice petering out as Theo shook his head glumly, looking almost on the verge of tears. Draco paused, grimacing.

"Why don't you try talking to McGonagall? She can be an interfering old bag but she'll do something, she's still Deputy Headmistress." He continued. Theo suddenly held a deep appreciation for his blond friend; there was no love lost between Slytherin's prince and their Transfiguration teacher, but Draco clearly respected her enough to trust her to help with Theo's plight.

"You think?" Theo replied, his brain sifting through the different possibilities now potentially afforded to him.

"It can't hurt, can it?" Draco said decisively. Theo nodded reluctantly.

"Anyway, let's head back to the common room – we can crack open the firewhiskey Blaise's stepdad sent." Draco continued, clapping a hand on Theo's shoulder in a rare show of physical support. Theo nodded in reply, feeling slightly perkier, and the two set off towards the dungeons, aiming to get utterly sloshed.

* * *

Hermione was running through the long grass, holding her dress up out of her way and ignoring the feel of the dry blades swishing against her stockinged legs with a muted  _thwack._ She slowed to a stroll as the great oak tree appeared in the near distance, the familiar blond head shining beneath it's spreading boughs. Malfoy was sat under the large tree, writing slowly in his leather-bound notebook. She smiled at their differing note-taking strategies. She was prone to fits of inspired prose, scribbling rapidly on any parchment she could find, while Malfoy always wrote neatly and measuredly in nothing but the best dragon-hide journal.

She watched him pause, mumbling aloud to himself: "2nd of February. Gytrashes and their significant features… Lumos or Vermillious used in defence…"

"Draco!" He stopped suddenly at the tinkling call of his name, snapping his notebook shut.

"Her-Granger." His monotone inflection belied his excited body language; he jumped up and started towards her, his long legs making short work of the tall grass filling the clearing. He stopped in front of the much shorter witch, staring down at her with a smirk.

"Careful, better make sure no one spots us. I'd hate to be on the wrong side of Umbridge's latest Educational Degree. Apparently we have your friends Saint Potter and the Weaselette to thank for that." Malfoy smirked. Ginny and Harry had been discovered in a rather passionate embrace behind the tapestry of King Canute's Conquest in an alcove at the top of the dungeon stairs, by none other than Professor Umbridge herself, resulting in her latest 'Educational Decree' – boys and girls were forbidden from being within eight inches of each other at all times, at risk of expulsion. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"That  _maddening_  woman; I think she would prefer it if we all had no brains at all!" She fumed. "And don't call Harry and Ginny that." She continued, her tone softening somewhat.

"Yes, Pansy mentioned that your health lesson with the toad was rather un-educational." Draco pressed on, laughing, stopping short at Hermione's jarring expression.

"What is it?" He asked, staring down at her in marked concern.

"…Pansy…" She whispered, eyes wide and horrified.

"Did you know?" She suddenly snapped, looking up at him abruptly.

"Know what? I don't understand – what is this about Pansy?" Draco asked, stepping towards the much shorter witch cautiously.

"You don't know? About her father?" She prompted, staring at him deeply, as if in the vain hope she could instantaneously learn Legilimency and use it on him.

"Well, I know he's a…  _Death-Eater_." Draco replied cautiously, lowering his voice on the final word.

"You really don't know?" Hermione prompted again, brows knitted together in confusion.

"Know what?!" Draco demanded, raising his voice slightly in exasperation. "Sorry Granger, I-" He immediately began, before being cut off by Hermione.

"No, no, sorry, I shouldn't have doubted…" Her voice faded away, and she twisted her hands in the skirt of her cotton dress. "Pansy, um… her Father uses this curse on her. Pulsare? I saw her the other day, crying about it. She's covered in bruises." Hermione whispered the last sentence, worrying her plump lower lip between her teeth. Draco paled.

"Pansy? God, that's awful… I-I didn't know…  _fuck…_ " He trailed off, uncharacteristically lost for words.

"It made me boiling mad to hear her. I couldn't believe it. Lately, I can't think about anything else." Hermione confessed quietly.

"She needs to tell someone, do something!" Draco raged, trying to hide his shock and abhorrence in anger.

"I told her to, but she said there's not much anyone can do… she's right, especially with Umbridge controlling the school." Hermione said. There was a pause for several beats, then she whispered: "You know... I've never been beaten. Not once. I can't even imagine it. It must be just awful."

"It is." Draco replied, soberly.

"After she told me about the Pulsare curse, I tried it on myself, to see how it felt." She murmured, looking away.

"It didn't work, did it?" Questioned Draco, staring down at her still.

"No, not even a little bit."

"It would bruise terribly if someone did it to you."

"Like if  _you_  did it to me?" She whispered, finally meeting silvery gaze.

"If  _I_  did it? What are you talking about?" He replied, aghast.

"If you used the curse on me. So that I could see what its like." She replied, as if proposing an academic exercise.

"What are you thinking?! I could never beat you." Draco replied, a horrified expression alighting his angular face.

"But if I let you?"

"Never." He stumbled back a few steps.

"But if I asked you to?" She pressed on, drawing towards him again.

"Have you lost your mind?" He gaped, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Maybe… But I've never been beaten, my entire life. I've never felt..."

"What?" He hastily prompted.

"Anything." She breathed out, staring up at him with wide doe-eyes. Draco stared back at her, frightened and curious, looking like a child and a grown man all at once.

"Please Draco..." She pleaded, drawing closer, pulling her wand from a slit in her dress and pressing it into his hand. She then turned, offering him her backside; all rationality thrown out of the window at her experiment gone wrong. He stared down at the small witch, her wide curves unconcealed even by the long Hogwarts-uniform dress. He rolled the vine wood wand in his hand briefly, feeling the magical warmth spreading through his fingers. Hesitating, he slowly pointed the wand at her, before muttering "Pulso" without much conviction.

"I don't feel it!" She said.

"Maybe not, with your dress on." Draco replied unthinkingly, a slight waver permeating his aristocratic voice.

"On my legs then." Hermione replied, hiking up her skirt to reveal the plump, creamy flesh of her upper thighs, her round arse covered only by the thin, silky drawers.

" _Granger_ …" Draco groaned.

"Come on Draco, please. I want…  _need_  to feel something. I want to understand." She pleaded.

"I'll make you feel something." Draco replied with frustrated anxiety, grabbing her by the arm firmly and saying the curse more forcefully this time.

"Please… You're barely stroking me." She lied, her gasps belying her true feelings.

"I'll teach you to say 'Please'..." Draco growled. "Pulso!" The curse flashed again, striking Hermione's dimpled flesh.

"How's that then?" Draco asked, fingers digging into her soft upper arm.

"Pansy's father draws blood, Draco." She groaned. His darkened eyes narrowed, an animalistic growl ripping from his throat as he shot another round of the curse at her.

"How's that?" He urged again.

"Nothing, Draco _._ I need to  _bruise_ …" She bit back a whimper as the curse stuck her again.

"And that?" Draco prompted, voice rough.

" _Nothing!_ "She cried, writhing in his gasp. Draco finally snapped.

"You  _fucking_  mudblood. I'll give you 'nothing'." He growled, pushing her down onto the ground. She sprawled in the grass before him, skirt still hiked around her waist, bruises blooming on her dimpled thighs. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and cradled it to her chest, light finger-shaped marks appearing along her golden-skinned forearm where he had grasped her. They started at each other for one long beat, Hermione's large brown eyes filling with unshed tears.

"Oh God…" Draco stuttered out, horrified at his actions. In one swift movement, he had dropped Hermione's wand and stumbled back, ungracefully, before turning and running off deeper into the Forbidden Forest. Hermione thought she heard him choke back a sob, as tears trailed down her cheeks and her own weeping started. She lay down in the long grass, curling into the foetal position; desperately wishing the ground would swallow her up as tears tracked their way down her round face.  _Stupid, stupid girl._

_How did you ever think that was a good idea?_

She was sore all over, her head pounded from the crying, and worst of all she had ruined things with Draco. Watching him run off, distraught, had made her heart ache far more than her body ever could. Hermione allowed herself to sob openly for a minute or two more, waiting until her tears subsided to sniffles before gingerly raising herself up, knees first, then stumbling up onto wobbly legs. She pulled her long skirt back down over her now-bruised legs, smoothing the thin, burgundy cotton down and brushing some dirt off the long hem. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to get her breathing under control, before shaking her long mane of hair out and stepping forward.

_You can do this Hermione. Just make it back to the castle and you can take a nice, long bath, and forget everything._

Hurrying past the oak tree, she spotted something lying in the soft moss- Draco's journal. She hesitated a moment before picking it up and taking it with her, clutching it tightly as she wandered back to the looming castle.

* * *

Theo was sitting in the common room when the Howler arrived. His Father must have sent his Great Horned Owl, Strix, specially, timed to cause maximum embarrassment but not oust him to those with anti-death eater sentiments. Theo just about managed to wrestle it out of the room and into the empty dormitory before it burst into a slow hiss that chilled him to the bone:

" _Theodore Cantankerus Nott; you are a a disgrace to the name, to the family, and to me. I should have known my son would turn out an utter failure. You have turned us into a laughing stock; How am I expected to serve The Dark Lord when my own son is bested by my worst enemy? I can only be thankful your mother is not around to see you bring shame to the family name. I do not expect to hear from you or see you until this situation is remedied. No son of mine will dishonour me and get away with it._ "

The message ended in a puff of smoke, the Howler catching fire in front of his eyes. He had heard that voice, time and time again through his childhood; the monster his father turned into when angry still haunted his dreams. He was surprised to feel tears dripping down his face by the end of the message, the heat from the flaming letter drying them as they fell. Thankfully, Blaise and Draco were out and not privy to his utter mortification at his father's hands. Blaise was probably off with Neville in the greenhouses (Sprout valiantly aiming to keep them as an Umbridge-free haven for as long as possible), while Draco was most likely moping away somewhere, as he'd been doing increasingly over the past few days.

His blond friend's words echoed in his mind as he pondered his situation:

' _Try talking to McGonagall? She can be an interfering old bag but she'll do something, she's still Deputy Headmistress._ '

That faint feeling of hope flickered in Theo's chest again and before he could change his mind he got up and strode out the door, throwing the smoking remains of the howler into the fire as he passed. Ten minutes later, and he was standing in front of the Transfiguration professor's elaborately carved door, poised to knock.

_This is stupid, why bother?_

Just as he turned to shuffle away, disheartened, a sharp Scottish voice rang out from inside the office: "Enter, whoever you are. I cannot abide loiterers!"

McGonagall's shock was unmistakable as Theo's pointed face peeked round the door, but to her credit, she didn't let it deter her.

"Good evening Mr Nott, what can I do for you?" She said smoothly, motioning towards the hard, straight-backed chair in front of her desk.

"I, erm, I'm having a bit of a problem…" Theo muttered vaguely, hesitantly shutting the door and sitting down.

"Would you not be better taking this to your Head of House, Professor Snape?" McGonagall asked, eyeing the teenage boy beadily.

"No, um, he's the problem I'm having, professor." Replied Theo, avoiding her sharp gaze.

"Ah." She remarked, pointedly. "Well, all the teachers at Hogwarts are here for students, regardless of their house, so I will of course help if I can. What exactly  _is_  this problem?"

"W-well, my father and Snape do not get on, and, um, I think this is affecting my marks in Potions. I don't know what to do, and Draco suggested I come to you."

"Uncharacteristically sensible of Mr Malfoy." Remarked McGonagall with a slight smile. "And yes, I'd noticed that you'd failed the Christmas potions exam, but it's not the NE-"

"I  _know_ it's not the NEWT, but if Professor Snape is going to mark me unfairly in the Christmas exam, he's going to mark me unfairly in the NEWT!" Interrupted Theo, getting frustrated. "I did a perfect Angel's Trumpet Draught but he still failed me, he  _hates_  me!" He ended in a huff of anger. McGonagall looked, for a small moment like she was going to tell him off, but then merely nodded.

"I understand. You are a bright young man, Nott, and as far as I recall, the rest of your marks are all  _Exceeds Expectations_  or higher. You don't need a NEWT in Potions to succeed."

"But Professor, I need an  _Exceeds Expectations_ to go into healing… and..." He trailed off. The hawkish witch nodded for him to continue, brows-raised.

"M-my father, with this rivalry with Snape, I think he will disown me for this…" Theo finished. McGonagall was silent for a minute, and Theo noticed something like pity flickering in her sharp eyes. She sighed.

"I'm sympathetic to your plight, but there's little I can do to intercede I'm afraid. Especially with Professor Umbridge-" she muttered the name through gritted teeth

"-as our Headmistress, I'm not currently in a position to help, especially as you are not a member of my house. I think the Headmistress would, rightly or wrongly-" her tone of voice indicating 'wrongly' very clearly "-take Professor Snape's side in this. I'm sorry Theo. I will write to your Father and discourage him from being too harsh on you. My position as Deputy Headmistress affords me this ability, at least." She concluded, looking sympathetically at Theo from across the ancient wooden desk. He nodded, muttering a quiet 'thank you, professor', before rising out of his seat and leaving the office. He wandered back to the dormitory in something of a daze, feeling more bereft than before. McGonagall had felt like his last hope, and now that was dashed there seemed to be nothing left. Theo's thoughts spiralled as he pulled open his trunk and began searching through it.

' _Disinherited… no healer apprenticeship… no job… no money… no father…'_ consumed his thoughts, on repeat like a broken wireless. His hands found what they were searching for, grasping the smooth wooden handle of the straight razor and pulling it from beneath a folded cloak. His father had given him it as a 14th birthday present, typical pureblood homily included ( _'Every distinguished wizard should perfect the art of shaving.'_ ), and this thought just added to the jumbled swirl in his mind. He pocketed the blade, then rose up and walked out of the room numbly, leaving his case open by his perfectly made bed.

* * *

Draco sat on a raised dais at the end of the darkened Greenhouse, the full moon outside the only source of light in the stormy night sky. It made him think, briefly, of their ex Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Remus Lupin, and the agony he would be going through at this very moment in his transition into a Werewolf. Part of Draco thought he'd rather be a werewolf too than deal with the turmoil currently filling his mind. The door to the greenhouse suddenly banged shut, rousing him from his dark thoughts. He glanced up to see the short figure of Hermione Granger standing in front of the glass door, hair and clothes dripping wet from the rain outside, clutching a notebook in her hand.

"So, here you are." She said, staring up at him.

"Go away. Please." He muttered, trying not to look at her, the wet dress clinging to her soft curves.

"You can't just sit sulking in here. We need to  _talk_ … about what happened." She replied, almost defiantly.

"No. Leave me alone." He turned his head away, his voice sounding petulant even to his own ears.

"Your friend Theo is absent. No one's seen him since this afternoon, apparently." She prompted, trying a different tactic to engage the sullen wizard.

"He's upset about his potions grade." Draco replied absently, still not looking at Hermione. Several quiet beats passed.

"Look, I brought your journal."

" _You've_  had it?" Draco asked, raising his head to look at her, having wondered where his misplaced notebook had been.

"Yes, you left it the other day. I read some of it-"

"Just leave it, please." Draco interrupted, looking away from her again. Hermione sighed. He fully expected her to turn and leave at that point, and was shocked when she hiked up her long skirts and climbed the ladder up onto the platform, pulling herself up next to him. She set down the notebook by him, then started speaking again.

"Draco, I'm sorry about what happened. I really am. I understand why you'd be angry with me. I don't know what I was thinking-"

"Don't, please don't." He cut her off, his voice deep and angry with the crushing guilt.

_How could she be blaming herself?!_

"But how can I not-"

"Don't, please! It was me, all me. I  _hurt_ you Hermione. And I called you a-" He cut off sharply, taking a steadying breath. "I promised myself I'd never say that word again. I'm so, so sorry. How can you ever forgive me?" He looked sideways at the small witch next to him, a stricken expression clouding his pointed face. Hermione's small hand suddenly darted out, grasping his tightly.

"I  _do_ forgive you Draco. And I'm sorry too, I goaded you into it. I wanted to experiment, to try and feel something, but I'm so sorry I made you do it too. I just feel so empty… I thought maybe I could provoke a reaction in myself." She breathed out, her large brown eyes staring up him in the gloomy light. Draco nodded.

"I know what its like… to want to feel something. Something that isn't guilt or remorse, or boredom or emptiness." He replied. It felt freeing to finally confess

"Won't you come out to the forest, Draco? It's dark in here, and stuffy. We can run through the rain, get soaked to the skin and not even care. It would feel so freeing." She whispered, leaning towards him.

"You're already soaked to the skin." Draco swallowed thickly, now unable to keep his eyes off the plump witch in front of him. He glanced down at her chest, forcing himself to look away from where her hard nipples were straining through the thin fabric of her dress.

"So I am." She whispered, looking back towards Draco, his pale blond head shining in the moonlight. They leaned achingly close together, close enough to feel each other's body heat.

"I can hear your heartbeat." Hermione whispered, her dark eyes unmoving from Draco's penetrating silvery gaze, their faces inches from each other now.

"And I yours." Draco whispered in reply, his warm breath ghosting over her mouth. They moved towards each other suddenly, as if possessed, launching in to a deep kiss. Draco was consumed by the feel of Hermione's soft lips pressed against his, and he kissed her hungrily, one hand snaking up to fist in her riotous curls, while the other held tightly onto her small waist. He could feel the heat from her skin radiating through the thin, damp cotton of her dress. One of her small hands slowly creeped from resting against his chest, up to his shoulder, to finally wrap itself around around his neck, her soft fingers against his nape sending shivers down his spine. He kissed her more forcefully, slipping his tongue into her soft mouth with a groan. She reciprocated, kissing back feverishly before they both had to pull away to catch their breaths, flushed and panting.

(x) (x) (x)

Hermione smiled at Draco, taking in his pinked face and messy blond hair. Kissing Ron had  _never_  been like that. His grin back made her heart hurt, it illuminated his face, taking away the weariness and sadness that had been present within him for so long. She leaned forward again, brushing the whitish-blond hair off his forehead gently before kissing him- slowly, sensually this time. They kissed like this for a while, running their hands over each other's backs and arms, until Draco's fingers' found themselves at the buttons at the top of Hermione's high-necked dress.

Their mouths broke apart for a moment, enough for Draco to mutter  _'can I?'_  and for Hermione to breathe back ' _yes_ ', with a nervous smile. His long, elegant fingers made quick work of the row of buttons down the front of her dress, and Draco groaned aloud as her perky breasts were exposed, pale and freckled, nipples stiff from the damp dress and night air. She blushed, averting her gaze, no one had ever seen her like this. Draco clasped a hand around her neck, tilting her head up, gazing into her darkened eyes as he kissed her softly again. Draco slowly helped her lie back on his discarded cloak and knelt between her legs as she smiled nervously up at him. His smile back made her shiver deliciously; She could never have imagined being looked at in such an aching, smouldering way before. Her own hands mimicked his, eyes locked on him as she unbuttoned down his white cotton shirt, exposing his pale torso as he loomed over her. She bit her lip, looking up at him almost glowing in the moonlight, bright in the gloomy greenhouse. He was thin, with broad shoulders and a lightly defined torso, and her stomach fizzed with want at the look of him.

_Is this what Lavender means when she mentions Ron? I could never have imagined this feeling…_

(x) (x) (x)

Draco stared down at Hermione, lying back  _déshabillé_  on his cloak like something out of his erotic dreams; her round face flushed, doe-eyes bright, her chocolate curls frizzing around her head like a halo. He slid one long finger across her jaw, down her neck to her breasts, tracing around around one areola experimentally. His gaze was dark on her, watching as she shivered and gasped under his touch.

"So fucking soft…" He muttered, before leaning down and softly kissing along the path he just traced with his finger, pausing first to suckle her neck before continuing down and taking one hardened nipple into his warm mouth. He gently ran a hand up her rounded body, cupping her other breast as he flicked and pinched her rosy nipple. Hermione audibly whimpered at this, bringing her hands up to clutch at his soft hair as he alternated between licking, biting and pinching her swollen nipples.

"Ugh, Draco…" She groaned, pulling him up to kiss him deeply again, and he watched as she rubbed her plump thighs together unconsciously, aware of the burning ache between them. She scratched her fingers down Draco's chest, across his nipples, he felt her smiling into the kiss as he moaned in reaction. His large hands ran down her body in retaliation, gripping her waist as he pressed his hard body against her. She felt one hand creep up her thigh, past the top of her stocking to just edge underneath her loose drawers. Draco glanced at her for conformation and she nodded quickly, he then swiftly pushed the skirt of her dress up, exposing her grey, thigh-high stockings, held up with simple ribboned garters, and virginal white cotton drawers. He trailed his hands achingly slowly up her thighs and across her drawers, smirking down at her and enjoying her frustrated moan in reply. His graceful fingers reached the simple waistband and slipped underneath, pulling the undergarments ever-so-slowly down over her soft stomach and wide hips, exposing her quim to his searching gaze. He pulled her drawers fully from her legs, dropping them behind him has he turned back to focus on her. He left her soft woollen stockings on, finding the idea of her thighs, tied up in ribbons like a present just for him, utterly enticing. Hermione delighted in watching him watch her with his pale, burning gaze, as if she was some angelic apparition sent down to torment him. Her thoughts blurred as he ran his long fingers between her legs, her thighs involuntarily jerking, then parting as he dipped his fingers into her slick heat with a groan of "You are so lovely."

Draco's breeches had gotten very tight over his crotch, and the pressure was almost unbearable as he traced Hermione's slick folds and watched her squirm beneath him. Her eyes closed involuntarily and she fisted his hands in his cloak, lying beneath her still. His fingers ran over her most tender point, and she gasped out "oh, there- yes, ah-!" as he rubbed across her little button repeatedly. A finger slipped into her tight channel, probing and nudging softly, soon joined by another. She was groaning loudly now, her thighs parted wide for his pumping fingers. She was  _just_  feeling that aching, fizzing desire climbing within her, threatening to overtake, when Draco withdrew his hand. She gasped, eyes abruptly opening and staring up at him with sheer indignation, only to see him unbuttoning his tight breeches. She gulped, her nerves suddenly returning.

_Was he…? Is this what people meant when they talked about marital relations?_

She watched carefully as he pulled his breeches and drawers down in one swift motion, exposing his very erect member to Hermione's inquisitive gaze. It bobbed free of its confines, long and hard, pale like the rest of him, and Hermione wondered briefly how that was ever going to fit inside her.

Draco drew closer once more, kneeling between her widely parted thighs. They locked gazes once more, and he asked softly, in his deep, posh voice that she loved so much: "Can I..? You make me so desperate." He looked so vulnerable and soft, so almost un-Draco-like but simultaneously maddeningly, passionately  _him_ , that Hermione could have melted.

"Yes." She breathed out, running her hands up his smooth chest to grasp at his shoulders as he moved closer between her widely parted legs. He took his long cock in hand, running its sensitive head slowly along her wet seam, eliciting a soft moan from them both. He lined his member up with her dripping entrance and slowly pushed in. She was almost painfully tight, and so hot and wet, Draco felt he could have released that very minute. Hermione groaned in discomfort, feeling painfully full, a dull ache spreading in her abdomen as she felt his cock push into her. Draco leaned down and kissed her softly again, stilling within her to allow her to get used to his girth, while bringing a hand up to play with the small button between her slick thighs. He felt able to move again once she was writhing under him, close to capturing that elusive, dizzy feeling she had felt when penetrated by his fingers. Hermione lifted up her thighs, wrapping them around his waist, exponentially increasing the depth of his penetration. He thrusted in and out of her hot quim increasingly quickly, spurred on by her mewling cries, his fingers still rubbing between her legs sloppily as he came ever-closer to his release. Her whimpers increased in pitch and voracity, until suddenly she was clamping around him with a ' _Yes, Draco, please- ah!_ ' and she came with a high-pitched moan, eyelashes fluttering on her damp cheeks. Draco followed swiftly behind her, his hurried thrusts quickly falling out of rhythm until he too came with a loud groan of ' _Her-Hermione…',_ collapsing down onto her soft body.

Draco slowly returned to his senses, pulling himself out of her gently and kneeling back on his haunches to quickly pull up his drawers and breeches. He gazed down at Hermione, who, still flushed and panting, absentmindedly began to button up her dress with trembling hands, eyes unfocused. He turned, torso still pale and naked in the glowing light, to find her hastily discarded drawers, and passed them back to her. Their hands touched and they locked eyes, both breaking into nervous smiles.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked deeply, watching Hermione pull the plain cotton undergarments up over her plump legs, before adjusting the grey stockings and smoothing her dress down.

"Yes. I think so." She replied, biting her lip nervously, before leaning upwards to plant a soft kiss on his pouting lips.

"That was amazing." Draco muttered, grinning now.

"Yes. I didn't know it would be like  _that._ " Hermione whispered reverently, unable to resist returning a wide smile. She lay back on his soft robes, hair fanning around her head like a halo.

"I'm so sleepy now." She yawned, still hazily looking up at him. Draco couldn't resist coming over her once more, pressing his hard body into her much softer one, her wide curves yielding under him and her thighs parting unconsciously. He kissed her deeply again, and she sighed into the kiss, relaxing. Before he could get carried away, he reluctantly rolled off her to lie next to her on the robes, taking her in his long arms. The brunette witch burrowed into him sleepily, entwining her much shorter legs with his and resting her bushy head upon his chest. He stroked down her back, and upon finding her dress still damp from the rain, reached for his wand and performed a simple drying spell. She sighed out a quiet 'thank you', even as her eyes were fluttering shut languidly, dozing off in the warmth of the drying spell and Draco's arms. Draco suddenly felt exhausted himself, watching Hermione sleep, her small body curled into his. Her rhythmic breathing calmed him, and he pulled her in tighter as he slowly drifted to sleep, lulled by her the feel of her soft body in his arms.


	3. The Mirror-Blue Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don't own anything, unfortunately. I wish I did, then I'd probably be hitting 'publish' from the comfort of my mansion!
> 
> Some small notes: This fic hasn't been beta'd so any mistakes are my own. In case you were wondering, the chapter titles are taken from songs in the original musical! Also, I'm posting the warnings again as this chapter gets rather intense at one point.
> 
> Warnings: Mature fic – Explicit heterosexual sex; A suicide attempt; Violence; Blood-prejudice; implied homosexual sex; reluctant D/s / D/s gone wrong; dark magic/curses.
> 
> Please read/review/enjoy! xxx

Hermione jerked awake, eyes opening quickly to stare directly into the sleeping face of Draco Malfoy. The moon was much higher in the sky now, and she briefly wondered how long they'd been asleep for. Draco's arms were folded around her tightly, their bodies curled together in shared warmth and connection. She felt sore and sticky between her legs, and the heat rose in her cheeks as memories of the evening earlier flashed through her brain. She knew, staring at Draco's pale, calm face, brow unwrinkled and stress-free in sleep, that she didn't regret it at all.

_But- Oh Merlin!_

"Draco, Draco, wake up!" She shook him roughly, unsuccessfully trying to disentangle herself from his long arms.

"Hmm?" The blond wizard mumbled, his pale-lashed eyes sleepily blinking open.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" He asked, rubbing his eyes, his voice rough and deep from sleep.

"Draco, we didn't… you know... do you know a charm or a spell or-?" Hermione babbled as she hurriedly pushed herself into a seated position next to the sleepy boy.

"Hmm? What spell?" Draco asked languidly, staring up at her through slitted eyes, reaching out a hand and sliding it lazily over her thigh.

"A contraceptive spell! I don't know one, and we didn't think, right afterwards, you know, we just bloody  _fell asleep-_ " She replied, her voice rising higher in panic. Draco's eyes widened in understanding and he quickly sat up, hand tightening on her thigh.

"Hey, hey, it's alright." He reassured, reaching for his wand where it lay discarded by his cloak. "I know the spell, may I?"

"Yes, please." Hermione said rapidly, feeling herself calm at Draco's quick reaction.

_Thank merlin he knows the spell!_

Draco leaned forward, tapping her stomach twice and muttering a short incantation. She felt a faint pulse of magic go through her.

"Did it work?" She asked breathlessly.

"I think so? I did it how my father taught me. Did you feel anything?"

"Yes, like a throbbing, here." She replied, patting her lower abdomen. Draco exhaled shakily, then smirked, staring at her with that now-familiar dark look in his eye, hand still tight on her thigh. Hermione blushed, looking away, suddenly overcome at all that had transpired. She quickly busied herself hunting around for her wand, before Draco tapped her on the shoulder and handed it to her with a smile.

"It was on the floor next to mine." He shrugged.

"Thank you."

"Hermione." Draco said again, the deep, serious inflection making Hermione glance up, meeting his worried silver eyes. "I don't regret last night, but I'm sorry if-"

Hermione stopped him in his tracks, leaning forward and kissing him deeply, his words forgotten as his arms snaked round her back and pulled her towards him. She pulled back from him slightly, to reply: "Don't be. I don't regret it at all" with a small grin. She caught him try (and fail) to hide the giddy grin alighting his face, before he opted instead to swoop in for another deep kiss.

"Why don't we lie back down?" He smirked suggestively. "My robes  _are_  rather comfortable; I daresay Gryffindor' beds pale in comparison."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and glanced at her wristwatch.

"Alright then." She smiled bashfully at Draco's bare-faced surprise.

"I was sure you'd suggest sneaking back."

"It would be much better to wait and then sneak back in for breakfast." She explained pragmatically. "We can always play it off as an early morning stroll if either of us are caught." She tried to tell herself that her reasoning was purely logical, but the fact that her cold bed back in Gryffindor tower was depressingly Draco-free made a very favourable point for staying put. Decided, she raised her wand and transfigured Draco's robe into something resembling a makeshift bed. A slow, lazy smile formed on the blonde's handsome face.

"You're much more devious than you appear, Miss Granger." He teased, as she climbed into the bed and lay primly down.

"It's all the sneaking around I've had to do with Harry and Ron, blame them, they corrupted me… now you have too." She replied, absentmindedly tracing patterns into the sheets beneath her. She was feeling decidedly nervous again, now that the decision to stay put had been made.

"I never thought I'd feel… for someone not my husband… I didn't think-" She kept her eyes determinedly at the ceiling, but she could still feel Draco's intense gaze on her.

"It's just a title Hermione… they don't guarantee feeling, especially ones that aren't there." He remarked pointedly, lying down next to her. She shivered, feeling the hairs on her arms stand up at the electric proximity between them.

"Yes. But that's so different than we're taught. I hate that they teach things that aren't true." She mumbled, half-drunk on tiredness as she turned to face Draco, curling into the thin, blonde boy.

"They're scared, I suppose. Umbridge wants to keep the old pureblood ideals, our parents are all old-fashioned traditionalists, and the Ministry are scared of the Dark Lord rising-"

"-and it's easier for all of them if we all stay as innocent children." Hermione sighed. "But we won't." She finished resolutely, her oncoming yawn doing nothing to dull the strength of her tone.

"You'll change the world Hermione." Draco smirked, only half-teasing, staring down at her fondly as he stroked over her bushy hair.

"I intend to." She mumbled in reply as she began to doze off, entwined in Draco's arms.

Draco's last conscious thought before he too fell asleep was the image of her writhing beneath him, her pink lips parted and her darkened eyes staring up at him with something deep, unfathomable, hopeful, clouding their depths.

* * *

Theo walked aimlessly through the dark halls, his right hand continually drifting to the blade stowed in his trouser pocket. He'd wandered about all afternoon, missing dinner and sticking to the emptier hallways, out of sight of the teacher's prying eyes. He didn't know why he was stalling, really, he knew what he had to do; there wasn't any choice left.

_Was there?_

Just as he moved towards the door of the 6th floor boys' bathroom, which he knew was always deserted, he heard it – the tinkling call of his name from the voice he'd recognise anywhere.

"Theo, wait!"

He pulled back, turning around and slipping the straight razor back into his pocket.

"Luna, you startled me!" He replied, shiftily, worrying that she'd seen the knife or could read his flustered expression.

"What are you doing here Theo? I didn't see you at dinner." She replied, lightly, a concerned smile alighting her delicate features.

"I just felt like having a walk around by myself." He tried a blasé shrug.

"Oh I understand; I love doing that too. The castle is it's most relaxing at night; don't you think? I love strolling the halls and just imagining things." She replied enthusiastically.

"Yes, it can be very peaceful." Theo agreed with a small smile, unable to stop himself getting caught up in Luna's enthusiasm.

"Do you remember when we used to run in the fields and play at being fae?" She said. Theo's mind filled with memories of a time long gone. The two had come across each other as small children in the fields near their houses, Theo's palatial estate extending to the boundary of Luna's odd, rook-like home. They had bonded over being magical children with distant fathers and dearly-missed mothers, and had whiled-away many a pre-Hogwarts day playing together amidst the long grass.

"Yes, I remember." Theo said, aching with all his soul to go back to those sunny, carefree days.

"I think they were some of the happiest days of my life." Luna smiled, the goodness and light pouring out of her face like sunshine. Theo could only nod in reply, a lump forming in his throat and the threat of tears in his eyes. He missed those summers more than anything, and the closeness with the girl in front of him that those happy days had brought.

"Do you want to come to the Astronomy Tower with me? I'm heading there now to stargaze." Luna continued, interrupting his thoughts, her voice still light and dreamy.

"Actually, I better go." Theo replied, having finally found command of his voice.

"Are you sure? The stars are supposed to be glorious tonight – Mars is at it's brightest."

"No, I mustn't, I've got so much work to do."

"Just for an hour? It would be like old times." She pleaded.

"Honestly, I wish I could. Goodnight Luna." He replied sombrely, his hand itching to touch the blade once more.

"Alright. I'll see you around, Theo." She smiled softly, turning and moving off up the corridor until she was out of sight. Instant regret washed over Theo like a bucket of cold water.

_For the love of Merlin, all I had to do was say yes._

"Luna,  _Luna_!" He called after her, hoping with all her heart she would return and drag him off to the astronomy tower for a night of stargazing. But it was too late, she'd walked off into the darkened corridor. The only path left led into the swallowing darkness of the deserted bathroom.

Theo swallowed, but that horrible lump stayed tight in his throat as he pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the silent chamber. He pulled the blade out of his pocket fully now, gripping it tightly in his shaking hand.

"Ten minutes ago, you could see the entire horizon. Now, only the night." He whispered, staring at himself in the mirror, eyes dark and full with unshed tears.

_Nothing but night. So dark. So dark. So dark…_

He took the razor to his shaking wrists, gritting his teeth. He slumped down on the floor as the blood began to pool.

_So dark. So dark. So dark…_

His eyes were closing, so heavy all of a sudden, the scent of blood sharp in his nostrils. He felt achingly sleepy, and that was something like peace to his mind.

as the door banged open and he heard a high pitched scream.

"Oh merlin, Theo!" Luna shouted, running across the tiled for and collapsing onto her knees next to him. Her long hair tickling his face as she leaned over him was the last thing he felt as he drifted off, the light scent of lavender mixing with the iron tang of blood.

* * *

It was Draco that woke first this time, a glowing silvery light dancing behind his closed eyelids.

_Is that the moon?_

He had felt he'd only been asleep for five minutes or so as he blearily opened his eyes, staring around the room at the dancing white light. Hermione was tucked into him, her plump curves soft against him, head nestled against his bare chest. He slowly disentangled himself from her (with a disgruntled groan from her sleeping form), and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He quickly located the source of the light: a ghostly-looking tabby cat, pacing around his and Hermione's prone forms. As he looked at it, it opened it's mouth to speak, a familiar Scottish voice ringing around the room:

" _Mr Malfoy, I know you are not in your bed and this was the easiest way to get hold of you. We will deal with your truancy later, but for now, please come to the hospital wing urgently. Your friend Theodore is injured. Come_ _ **now**_ _. Professor McGonagall."_  The witch signed off, the repressed panic evident even in her measured tone, as the cat nodded, curled in a ball, and disappeared. Hermione was awake too at this point, sitting up and staring at Draco in concern.

"Theo? Oh Merlin, I hope he's alright."

Draco nodded mutely in reply, as she passed him his shirt and quickly transfigured his robes back.

"Do you want me to come too?" She asked, watching him shrug his shirt on, hastily doing up the buttons.

"No, no, there's no point you getting in trouble as well. We'll head back together and you can sneak back to Gryffindor tower." He held out a hand, helping her up. She smiled lightly in thanks, before planting a soft kiss on his check.

The pair snuck back as quickly as possible, winding their way between the greenhouses in the shining moonlight, the windows of the castle blazing out like beacons in the dark sky. They ran over the lawns quickly, hand in hand, both desperately hoping no one happened to be taking a late night peek out of one of the front windows of the looming building. The double doors creaked ominously as they opened, the teenagers diving in and pressing themselves into a dark alcove in case the sound had alerted a patrolling teacher. After a few tense seconds, they chanced it, dashing silently across the stone floor, passing the great hall, to the grand staircase. Up and up they went, at one point Draco hastily pulling Hermione to one side after her near step into a trick stair. They finally made it to their parting point unscathed, chests heaving, and panicky still at the prospects of continued journeys alone. Just as they stopped, a loud noise rang out and Draco pulled Hermione into a shadowy alcove, panicked thoughts of Filch flashing through both their minds. Thankfully, after a few stomach-churning seconds, it turned out to be Peeves banging about in a classroom on the floor above, delightedly singing a slightly eerie-sounding tune about the ghosts of Hogwarts.

"I- um, hope Theo is ok." Hermione whispered, straining to talk over Peeve's echoing rhyme of ' _oh the grey lady/she's rather shady/ and not very brainy'_.

"Yes, I'll let you know." Draco replied, running a hand through his dishevelled hair.

"Do you want to-" / "Can we meet again?" They blurted out at the same time, breaking into smiles as they cut each other off.

"Yes, yes of course." Hermione nodded, grinning still, her bushy hair bouncing on her shoulders.

"I'll owl you or just find you or…" Draco trailed off, unable to stop himself from keeping talking to her, staying in her presence, even with the thought of Theo blaring at the back of his mind.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then. Today, even." She corrected herself, remembering the lateness of the hour.

"Are you sure you'll be alright walking back? I could walk you-"

" _Yes_. I'll be fine. If I'm caught I'll tell them I fell asleep in the library whilst studying or something." She shrugged. "Now go to Theo, he needs you." She squeezed his hand and leaned up to the much taller wizard, aiming to place a kiss on his smooth cheek. He turned his head instead and captured her soft lips with his, pulling her into a deep kiss. They both came up for air slightly dazed, before Hermione shook her head and pushed him out of the alcove.

" _Go!_ And watch out for Peeves!" She was unable to wipe the silly grin off her face all the way back to the tower and into her cold, curtained bed; feeling slightly guilty for being so happy, even when Draco's friend was lying in the hospital wing.

The first thing Theo was aware of was the pressure on his right hand, as if a small hand was gripping his very, very tightly. Next was the snuffling sobs, badly repressed and echoing in the quiet. He cracked his eyes open slowly, the bright, white light of the hospital ward overwhelming, forcing him to blink rapidly and shield his face with a heavily bandaged wrist. A gasp rang out next to him, then a soft voice, that lovely, lovely voice: "Draco, he's awake!"

He opened his eyes fully this time, looking around. He was lying on a pristine white hospital bed, propped up by a mound of pillows and tucked in tightly – Madam Pomfrey's work no doubt. Luna was sitting beside him, clutching his hand tightly as she stared at him with a mixture of elation and desperation. He couldn't help smiling back lightly, before being distracted by Draco Malfoy, who clattered into the seat on the other side of him in a very un-Draco-like way, his pristine blond hair dishevelled and skin paler than he had ever seen, with dark hollows around his eyes.

"Theo… I'm so sorry I wasn't… I-I didn't realise-" he stuttered, uncharacteristically lost for words.

"I think it is I that owes you the biggest apology." Interrupted a quiet voice from the end of the bed. "Mr Nott –Theodore, I'm so sorry I didn't do more to help when you came to me. I recognise the extraordinary bravery that took, and I should never have put the comfort of my colleagues before your own problems." Professor McGonagall said, stepping towards them with a sombre expression on her face.

"That being said, you gave us all a terrible fright. I hope, if it is not too late, that you can come to me, or your friends, in the future when you are feeling so desperate. Had Miss Lovegood not found you when she did-" She stopped abruptly, shaking her head, tears filling her sharp eyes. Madam Pomfrey quickly materialised behind the older witch, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Theo felt very small and very sad all of a sudden, seeing them gathered around him like this. He wanted to talk, to apologise, to explain,  _anything_  but all he could seem to get out was " _Please don't tell my father_ " in a croaky voice, that familiar lump painful in his throat again. Draco nodded sincerely, grasping Theo's shoulder tightly, as McGonagall stuttered out 'yes, yes, of course-".

Luna simply looked at him softly with those deep, blue eyes, before leaning forward and pulling him into a gentle embrace. Her comforting action was like a balm to the pain; Her fluffy hair was soft against his check and he burrowed his face in it, enjoying the familiar lavender smell that emanated from her. He could happily stay in her arms forever, not having to think, or talk or worry.

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat suddenly, breaking the moment; Luna pulled away slowly, that radiant smile filling him with a faint kind of hope.

"I think it's time to let Mr Nott rest now. You can all come back tomorrow, it's late." The matron said matter-of-factly, glancing towards the starry sky outside. "Yes, you too Minerva. He's safe with me." She added, seeing the gleam of disagreement in the transfiguration professor's eye.

They were reluctantly herded out, Draco standing and leaving with a " _I'll be back tomorrow, promise_ " and a reassuring nod of the head, Luna trailing out behind him (" _see you tomorrow, Theo!_ ") with a parting smile that shined like the moon outside, and McGonagall bringing up the rear, finishing with a " _try not to worry Theodore. We'll get this sorted"_ before marching briskly out, shutting the heavy wooden door behind them. Madam Pomfrey flicked her wand, dimming the flickering sconces, and advanced, potion in hand.

"Dreamless Sleep needed, I think." She smiled, pouring out a generous measure of the purple potion and pressing the goblet into Theo's hand. He attempted a smile back (which felt more like a grimace), before tipping the smooth drink down his throat. Almost immediately, a lovely, relaxed kind of drowsiness overcame him.

_I didn't know the hospital beds were this soft…_

He snuggled down into the pillows, only vaguely aware of Madam Pomfrey wishing him a good-night's sleep before walking into her office. The last thing he thought about before the potion overcame him was pale legs whipping through a wide field, the smell of lavender in the air, and the golden sun rising high in the sky as he chased the giggling blond girl.

(x) (x) (x)

Luna had wandered off almost as soon as they'd stepped into the corridor, wishing them goodnight in a light, calm voice, even as the tear marks tracked her pale cheeks and her eyes stayed red-rimmed and watery. McGonagall had, in an uncharacteristic show of physical affection, squeezed the girl's shoulder reassuringly, bidding her a good night in return. Draco nodded a quiet goodnight too as the dreamy girl wandered off down the corridor, her pale hair and light blue dress soon swallowed up in the dim light.

"Professor-" Draco turned to the older witch, a slightly pleading note in his voice. McGonagall held up a wrinkly hand, shaking her head.

"Mr Malfoy-" she began with a sigh. "I don't want to know, really. If this were any other day you would have detentions coming out of your ears, mark my words, but given the present circumstance, I think we can forgo any punishment,  _just this once_." Draco visibly relaxed at this, shoulders sagging in relief.

"Thank you so much Professor, I-"

"Namely, because I do not want our  _esteemed Headmistress-_ " her eyes flashed angrily and she broke off to breathe deeply, before continuing more calmly "-to get wind of tonight's unfortunate events. Thanks to Miss Lovegood's remarkable forethought, she had the prudence to fetch me rather than anyone else, therefore avoiding a scandal." Draco nodded solemnly.

"I would ordinarily ask for your silence in this matter, but Miss Lovegood informed me of the strong bond between you and Mr Nott, which I have observed myself tonight. I know you will keep tonight's events secret." She regarded Draco with an odd expression, like she had an inkling she had misjudged him. She shook her head and the expression was gone, replaced with a familiar hawkish look.

"Anyway, it is late, and I would strongly suggest you head to bed. By yourself." She finished sharply, her eyes glittered knowingly. Draco wondered if she had somehow seen his evening's company.

_Does the Patronus communicate information back to the caster?_

He shuddered at the image of a cat-like McGonagall watching him and Hermione, curled up in sleep in the greenhouse.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall, of course. Right away. Night Professor." He said, moving off down the corridor.

"Good night Mr Malfoy." The greying witch replied, watching the tall, pale boy walk away. She had always assumed he was a carbon copy of his father, the nasty study group situation with Hermione Granger in 2nd year having done nothing to alleviate her prejudice, but recent events were starting to change her perspective of the clever Slytherin. He had been kind, even tender with Theo tonight, clearly worried for his friend's wellbeing, and she hadn't failed to notice his constant staring at Miss Granger, and the soft, wanting expression that accompanied it. She was not one for tender feelings often, but she couldn't help but hope, tired and overwrought after the difficult evening, that he was different; hopefully he had rejected his family's pureblood ideals and could embrace the light. Dumbledore had mentioned his belief in the Malfoy heir in passing, and for the first time, Minerva McGonagall truly believed him.

* * *

Hermione could feel Draco's eyes on her everywhere, in the great hall at mealtimes, in class, in the corridors; she could feel his presence as if he were a limb, a finger, a strand of hair. It had been three days since their tryst in the greenhouse and its sudden end, and the days had dragged by torturously slowly. She couldn't stop thinking about what they had done, the memories flashing through her mind and flushing her cheeks: his pale body moving above hers in the moonlight as they cried out in unison, his long arms pulling her close in sleep, the kisses chaste and delicate and fiery hot all at once. She burned with want for him.

She'd had one note from him, the morning after, shoved into her hand in passing, his writing neat and measured on the page:

" _Hermione-_

_Theo is… alright. I'll explain more in person, but he will be fine, eventually._

_Last night was incredible. Can I see you again? I am desperate to kiss you…_

_-DM"_

Her stomach had dropped as Ron had playfully swiped the note out of her fingers with a smirked "What's this then?", and Harry and Ginny had looked up from their whispered conversation in mild curiosity. All eyes were on Ron as he slowly unfolded the neat scrap of paper.

"I- It's just-" she'd stuttered nonsensically as her heart thudded in her chest – waiting for everything to come crashing down around her.

"Hzeronie… Teho?" What is this?" Ron had laughed, turning the parchment different ways in an effort to decipher the scrawled words upon it. Hermione silently thanked merlin that Draco had had the forethought to place a scrambling charm on the note.

"Nothing, Ron." She'd hissed, snatching the note back and stowing it away carefully at the bottom of her satchel, as Ron muttered something about her 'going nutty from stress'.

She'd waited until Ron was immersed back in snogging 'Lav-Lav' to write back, ripping a page out of her notebook in her haste to reply, splattering it with ink as she scrawled out her answer:

" _Draco,_

_I'm so glad to hear it. Yes, let's meet again- I have promised to watch Harry and Ron's quidditch practice tomorrow but could meet on Tuesday night? The astronomy tower is always empty then, we could meet there, 10pm. Let me know._

_H xx_

_(PS: I am desperate to kiss you too.)"_

She'd watched, later, as Draco had opened her note, thoroughly distracted by him as she watched his silver eyes flick over the crumpled page, his tongue tracing his lips in thought, before he looked up and nodded at her covertly. Her body flushed with want at the dark expression in his eyes.

(x) (x) (x)

The days had dragged by, but it was  _finally_  Tuesday. Hermione swirled her spoon through her tomato soup, only half-listening to the chatter around her. All she could focus on was Draco, seeing him tonight, touching him, kissing him. Ron, Harry and Ginny were chatting around her; thankfully they were having a rare Lavender-free lunch, the other witch having decided to eat at the Ravenclaw table with Pavarti, who occasionally joined her sister Padma there. Hermione's ears pricked suddenly, hearing Theo's name brought up in conversation:

"-it's been three days, and no one's seen him. Apparently he's in the hospital wing but no one knows anything." Ginny said, daintily sipping her pumpkin juice.

"Imagine if Snape has finally done him in. I never thought I'd see someone who he hated more than you Harry, but I was proved wrong." Ron guffawed, biting large mouthful of warm, crusty bread and swallowing it with some difficulty. Hermione frowned, her mind darting back to Saturday night, remembering McGonagall's panicked tone in her patronus.

"Snape's awful, but he wouldn't injure a student. Remember what happened the last time you thought he was trying to injure a student?" She remarked pointedly, eyebrows raised. Harry flushed, evidently remembering the incident in first year where Quirrell had cursed his broom and they had all blamed Snape.

"I'm sure Theo is just ill." She finished, thinking of Draco's vague note.

"What if he's not ill at all?" Harry blurted out, after a pause. "Theo's father is a death-eater, right? Listen, ok-" He continued in an undertone, ignoring Hermione's sigh. "What if he's being inducted or, or, I don't know, trained? We  _know_  Voldemort is trying to come back, Dumbledore told us-"

" _Harry_ …" Hermione began, tentatively. "Yes, Voldemort is coming back, but Theo's not gone to be _trained_ as a Death-Eater, he's ill or injured or something. Besides, he always seemed perfectly fine in class, pleasant even." She loved Harry, but she felt his deeply-ingrained dislike for Slytherins had been clouding his judgement of late.

"Besides, we all know it wouldn't be Nott dragged off to become a mini Death-Eater, it would obviously be bloody Malfoy…" Ron butted in, inclining his head towards the pale, blond boy at the other table. Hermione had to try hard to avoid looking, scared her friends would see affection, not animosity, in her dark eyes. She opened her mouth to defend him, but surprisingly, Ginny got there first.

"Don't be silly Ron, Malfoy's not a Death-Eater. And he's been perfectly fine for the last few years, I know you hate him but he stopped being a pompous arse back in fifth year." Ginny laughed, glancing over at the attractive young Slytherin. She laid a pacifying hand over Harry's. "I know you're worried about Voldemort, but I don't think anyone here poses a threat. It's their parents you need to worry about."

Hermione nodded emphatically in agreement, her gut clenching at the thought of Draco's parents and the multitude of problems they brought with them; something she'd purposely avoided thinking about over the last few days. She wondered how much longer she could spend time with Draco without the threat of his family's ideals beginning to hang over them.

"You're right, I suppose. I'm just so  _frustrated-_ " Harry replied, pounding his fist on the heavy wooden table. "I've not heard anything from Dumbledore for weeks, and I feel like I'm achieving nothing holed up here, with Umbridge keeping us all in the dark." They all nodded sympathetically, Ron clapping Harry on the back supportively.

"Why don't we go through some new spells this afternoon, I know it's not going to  _do_  anything, but at least we might feel a little less helpless?" Hermione suggested, trying to find something to take Harry's mind off of Death-Eaters.

"Good idea, Hermione." Ginny encouraged, squeezing Harry's hand and shooting her a thankful look.

"I've heard of this addition to the Patronus spell which allows you to send messages with it. I've done a bit of research and I think I've worked out how to do it!" Hermione said, her mind flashing back to McGonagall's speaking cat patronus. Harry looked considerably perkier at this news, all talk of junior Death-Eaters banished from the table as the foursome poured over her findings enthusiastically.

* * *

Draco crept through the deserted halls, the moonlight once again lighting his way. His whole body thrummed with anticipation, his heart seeming to beat out  _Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione._ He'd never felt like this before, so alive and excited. It had only been three days but he yearned for her touch again, and to see her bright smile and hear her intelligent chatter. A muffled giggle drew him out of his eager thoughts; he stopped in his tracks, turning his head to look; a glint of light in a shadowy corner caught his eye. He strode over, pulling back the tapestry that partially concealed the alcove, spotted two entwined bodies-

" _Fuck_ , Draco! I thought you were Filch." Blaise turned, shaking his head. Neville had jumped away from him, clutching his heart, robes askew and a dark shadow purpling on his neck.

"Sorry Blaise" Draco sniggered, taking in the dark boy's rumpled hair. "Just be careful- I heard you in the corridor and Filch is creeping about, you wouldn't want to get caught."

"Thanks. Neville's rather vocal, but then I  _am_  irresistible." Blaise grinned, like the cat that had got the cream, glancing over predatorily at his flushed companion. Neville bit back a shy smile, still glancing nervously at Draco.

"Where are you off to this fine evening, anyway?" Blaise continued, eyeing up his blond friend.

"To my own irresistible companion." Draco smirked, tapping the side of his nose with one long finger. "Longbottom." He nodded in parting at Neville, before stepping out of the alcove.

"Oh right, tell Granger I said hi." Blaise whisper-called out after him, before pulling the tapestry back over the entrance to their hiding place. Draco shook his head, marvelling at his cunning friend's astute abilities. He could almost see Neville's shocked expression, and the last thing he heard was the spluttered: "Draco and  _Hermione_?" from the Gryffindor, alongside Blaise's raucous laughter.

He carried on walking, hoping his little interlude hadn't alerted Filch, or another patrolling teacher, to his presence, only relaxing when he reached the very top of the twisting tower. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the large room, taking in the sight in front of him.

Hermione sat cross-legged on a blanket on the floor, bathed in the golden light of the flickering sconces. Her hair and skin almost glowed, and when she glanced up and beamed at him, standing still in the shadowy doorway, he almost felt his heart stop.

"Draco!" She called out, grinning, positively leaping up and running towards him. He too darted forward, shutting the door behind him and striding over to her, as if they'd been separated weeks and not a few meagre days. They gravitated towards one another like twin planets, orbiting each other in a starry galaxy. Draco pulled her into a deep kiss, groaning into her mouth as she pressed her hot body against him, both pulling away gasping after a few short minutes.

"I missed you, I know it's only been a day or two but-" She breathed out.

'Me too." He butted in, nodding enthusiastically.

_I'm acting like an idiot… and I don't even care._

He felt a silly grin spread across his normally controlled face, as Hermione grabbed his hand, leading him over to the blanket she'd set up in the centre of the room.

"How's Theo?" She asked, her brows knitted together in concern as they sat down on the tartan wool. Draco's face fell suddenly, his mind flashing back to the image of his friend, lying pale in the hospital wing, thick bandages round his wrists and face tracked with tears.

"Not good." Draco grimaced. Hermione frowned, running a hand down Draco's arm reassuringly. "He slit his wrists."

"Oh merlin!" Hermione gasped, clapping a small hand over her mouth, her amber eyes wide and shocked.

"Snape keeps failing him, his father is…  _awful_ , much worse than mine…" He glanced at Hermione, then continued "It all just got too much, I think. So he tried to kill himself. Thank merlin it didn't work, Luna found him before he'd bled very much."

"Luna? Are they-" Hermione blurted out.

"Yes, I think so, they're certainly not just friends. She got McGonagall, who took him to Madam Pomfrey. They're the only people who know, and everyone's agreed to keep it secret." Draco continued, the admiration for the two staff members shining through even in his sadness.

"How terrible. How's he doing now?"

"He's going to be fine,  _physically_ , And McGonagall is going to send off his NEWTS to be marked separately, so Snape can't interfere." Draco shrugged.

"That's good. But-?" Hermione nodded Draco to continue, watching him carefully and sensing there was more.

"I just… I can't believe it got this far. How did I not fucking realise he was so unhappy he wanted to kill himself? I'm an awful friend." Draco exploded in frustration, pulling away from Hermione in embarrassment.

"You're not Draco, you're not at all. Everyone can see how close you two are. It's terrible that Theo is so unhappy but you are  _not_  to blame for it." Hermione raised up on her knees opposite him, grabbing his broad shoulders. Draco deflated into her outstretched arms as she gathered him into a hug.

"I just feel like there's more I should've done. If I hadn't been so busy prancing around-" He muttered roughly into her shoulder, voice muffled.

"This is not your fault… but what's done is done." Hermione whispered, stroking his fine blond hair. "The only thing he can do, we can  _all_  do now, is move forward, keep going. He's got you, Luna, McGonagall, we'll all out for him. We'll keep him safe, I promise. You don't have to worry on your own anymore."

Draco sat up quickly, pulling away and looking down at her intensely. She stared back, blinking at his sudden movement.

"You are so good. How did you ever give me a second chance? I don't deserve…" He trailed off, finally voicing the thoughts that had swirled in his mind ever since that day in the Forbidden Forest.

"Stop chastising yourself, Draco Malfoy!" She pounded one small fist lightly against his broad chest. "You are a  _good person_. You are  _not_  your father; you recognise what is  _wrong_  with the world and want to change it. I know you are not bullying or rude or selfish, you are the opposite of all those things. You've changed so much. Why would I not love someone like that?" She blazed out, eyes fiery and indignant.

"You  _love-_ " Draco stuttered out, heart soaring.

"Oh Merlin." She flushed, shaking her head. "Of  _course_  I fancy you, you stupid Slytherin; I thought you were supposed to be intelligent!"

Draco just sat, gaping, stunned into an electric silence.

"I've fancied you for  _years_ , even after what happened with the studying and your bloody father interfering, and even when I worried you were like him and believed in all that pureblood shite, even then." She finished, lapsing into a nervous silence. Draco felt his face break into a slow, lazy smirk.

"Me too. I've loved you… forever." He replied, sincerely.

(x) (x) (x)

Hermione's heart hammered wildly in her chest as Draco shrugged, as if it was the most natural and normal thing for to declare your everlasting love for someone. She shook her head, grinning as she leaned forward and pulled him by his collar into another searing kiss. She moved so she was straddling his lap, knees either side of his long legs. Draco groaned heatedly as she nibbled on his lower lip gently, opening her mouth insistently to slide her tongue against his. Hermione felt her breath hitch as he slid his hand up her thighs, pushing the cotton of her skirt out of the way so he could caress the smooth skin of her legs, under her loose drawers.

As his long fingers left electric trails over her thighs, he brought one hand up to pull her wild hair out of the way. Hermione shivered as she felt his breath tickle her neck, but began to hum in pleasure as he started to suckle and kiss her sensitive skin.

This was all so new still, but she followed her instincts, running her hands down his shoulders to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off hurriedly to expose his smooth, pale torso. Draco groaned against her neck as she smoothed her hands over him, watching him jerk in reaction as she ran a finger over a nipple. His hand tightened on her upper thigh as she stroked down his toned stomach until she reached the top of his trousers, swallowing nervously as she undid the buttons. She kneeled up slightly as Draco quickly pushed the trousers down his legs, kicking them off round his ankles, before pulling her back onto his lap roughly. She could feel his cock straining up against her, separated only by the thin material of their drawers. She moved a small down hand down to touch him, when suddenly he stilled against her neck.

"Wait, I need to see you." Draco groaned, sliding his thumbs across her covered hips. Hermione realised with a jolt that she was still fully dressed, while he was nearly naked. She watched his face fall in disappointment as she delicately rose off his lap.

"Are you-" Draco began, before falling silent as she slowly began to undo the the top button on her dress. His boyish delight returned as he intently watched her small hands moving down the front of her dress, undoing the buttons all the way down to her waist. Hermione felt the familiar feeling of fizzing electricity in her stomach return as his darkened eyes roamed over her. The front of her dress soon gaped open, exposing her round breasts, and she resisted the urge to smile gleefully as Draco bit his lip, hard, eyes fixed on her perky nipples peeking out from the parted material. She reached down, pulling the calico of her skirt up over her thighs, watching him watch her slowly roll her stockings down her wide thighs, one after the other.

_I hope I'm doing this right…_

She decided she was, taking in his delightfully flushed cheeks and intense silvery eyes, his whitish blond hair flopping adorably over his patrician face. Legs sinfully bare, she leaned forward, bunching the dress up and pulling it over her head, leaving her in nothing but her plain, white drawers. She felt herself flush at Draco's quiet groan, and almost groaned herself when he reached into his drawers and pulled out his cock, long and stiff, and began to stroke it slowly, eyes roaming over her exposed body and face. She watched him carefully, her stomach clenching erratically as she slowly reached down and undid the tie on her drawers, mouth dry as she pushed the soft material down over her hips and thighs, letting the clothing drop to the floor unhindered.

"Fuck, Hermione." Draco muttered, as she watched him pump his large member faster. She tiptoed back towards him, watching his eyes roam over her swaying curves. She was nervous now, slightly unsure after her surprising show of boldness, but as soon as she was near he grabbed her hips and pulled her back down towards him. She landed across his lap with a gasp, legs splayed either side of him as she felt him pressed, hard, against her most intimate part. Draco trailed one hand down from her hip, between her legs, running his fingers over her slippery quim as she whimpered against his neck and ground herself against him. Steadying herself against him, she grasped his broad shoulders and raised herself up, allowing Draco to position his hard length at her entrance. They moaned in unison as she slipped down his shaft, Hermione's fingers tightening on Draco's shoulders as she slowly impaled herself upon him. She began to move her hips intuitively, rocking against him as small whimpers escaped from her lips. She watched, disconnectedly, as Draco's handsome face screwed up in pleasure, watching the flush rise in his cheeks. They moved together slowly, Draco fingers digging into Hermione's soft hips as she writhed above him, running her hands over his broad shoulders and feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingers. She ticked closer and closer to that elusive feeling, each rock of her hips sparking that overwhelming desire. He pushed up against her desperately, Hermione's moans growing more heated –  _'I'm so close',_ when suddenly Draco wrenched her up, flipping her onto her back and coming over her once more. He pushed back into her with a moan, and she instinctively spread her thighs, raising her knees to her chest and hooking her legs round Draco's back.

"You make me so  _fucking_ desperate." He groaned, capturing her lips in a skilful kiss as he began to pound into her with renewed vigour. Hermione clutched at his broad shoulders, trying to find something to ground her as her mind slipped away into the mind-numbing pleasure. She was so wrapped up in the blond boy moving energetically above her, so close his floppy hair brushed her forehead, that she almost didn't register the door banging open. It was only Draco's shout of ' _shit!_ ' and his hurried fumbling to cover her with his discarded shirt that she realised someone had walked in. She looked over Draco's shoulder, apprehensively. Professor Snape stood in the doorway, his dark frame silhouetted in the light of the stairwell below.


	4. Totally Fucked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing, sadly :'(
> 
> Waahhhh, so sorry guys, I've had a bit of a mad week, & for some reason found this chapter SO hard to write, but we got there in the end! See if you can catch the little easter egg relating to the source material... it's hidden somewhere in the chapter!
> 
> Part of this chapter is inspired by my Great-Grandfather's love letters to my Great-Grandmother during WWI, when he was stuck in the trenches and she was back home looking after their two babies (they went on to have 6 more!!). Anyway, enough of my rambling...
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Please read/review xxx

Draco stared solemnly at the grim-faced professor, sat across from him behind the large oak desk. The silence in the air was tense, heavy, as Draco waited for his godfather to speak with the anticipation of a criminal being led to the gallows. His mind flashed back to the scene that had occurred just minutes before.

"Miss Granger, get dressed and go back to your common room." Snape had barked, his dark eyes flicking over them. Draco naked as the day he was born; trying to shield Hermione with his body, as she sat, blanched white in shock and clutching his shirt over herself.

"Draco, I expect to see you in my office immediately. If you're both not out of this room in 5 minutes, I'll see to it personally that you're both expelled." He had finished, icily, before sweeping from the room, his black cloak billowing behind him. They grabbed at their clothes in silence, pulling the various layers on roughly. It was only when Draco glimpsed Hermione's hands shaking as she tried to do up her dress buttons that he stopped, turned and pulled her into his arms.

"It'll be alright." He reassured, stroking down her back rhythmically. "Snape's my godfather, I'll talk to him." Hermione eyed him sceptically, but relaxed into the hug, resting her head against his chest. He felt her squeeze him back, briefly, before pulling out of the embrace to finish getting ready. He had watched as she roughly pulled her stockings up, her skin glowing golden in the soft light.

_Bloody Uncle Severus!_

As soon as they were both ready he had grabbed her hand and rushed from the room with her as quickly as possible, only stopping at the bottom of the stairs to part.

"Meet me in the great hall before breakfast tomorrow? At 7?" Draco suggested, knowing few people would be around at the early hour.

Hermione simply nodded in reply, her brown eyes wide with anxiety. She had then leant forward and smoothed his hair out of his eyes with her soft fingers, the physical gesture calming them both.

Draco smiled, leaning into her soothing touch. She'd pulled away slowly, turned to go, when suddenly he'd pulled her back, kissing her forcefully.

"I won't let anything happen. I promise." He'd said, needing to reassure himself as much as her. She'd nodded again, bushy hair bobbing, before smiling softly back at him and turning to head back to her common room.

"You care for the Granger girl." Snape had stated, finally breaking the electric silence, and jarring Draco out of his thoughts.

Draco nodded sharply, once, in confirmation. He never could fool Uncle Sev.

His lips pursed as he stared back at his godfather's cold, dark eyes, waiting for his outburst.

It never came. Snape simply sighed, nodding in resignation.

"You always did want what you couldn't have – ever the Malfoy. I've seen this coming since your second year." Snape said, slowly. Draco eyed him silently, waiting for his godfather to finish his piece.

"I tried to discourage this, but it clearly hasn't worked. Judging by your obvious feelings and your…  _behaviour_ tonight, I presume you intend to do the right thing?"

"Hermione doesn't know it, but I wish to marry her, yes."

"Your parents will never allow it." Snape began, shaking his head.

"I have the Black trust fund and my grandfather's old property, I can provide for her without my parents help." Draco replied quietly. He had spent the last few weeks carefully planning for the future, one he now knew he wanted to share with Hermione. He'd even gone so far as to write to Gringotts and move a portion of his money into a separate account, prepared for all eventualities.

"I don't care what my parents say, I don't need their permission-" he continued passionately. Snape raised his hand, shooting Draco a quelling look.

"Tonight's…  _events_  were not the reason I asked you to come here." The hook-nosed professor began, pulling a letter out of his dark robes. Draco immediately recognised the familiar Malfoy crest, emblazoned on the wax seal. "Your father has written and asked for you to be sent home. He wants you by his side when the Dark Lord rises."

Draco gaped silently as the world crashed down around his shoulders.

"I can't- I won't go; I can't leave Hermione. I don't support-"

"Draco." Snape said, cutting him off. "I will only say this once, so listen carefully. You must go. There are forces in place working to stop the Dark Lord. He will not rise again, if I can help it." The professor said, his mouth pressed into a thin line, nostrils flared.

"Go home. Put things in order, and then when the time is right, return. The people that matter know your true allegiances, but this is the best way for you to protect Miss Granger." Snape finished, placing the letter down carefully on the desk in front of him. Draco nodded in understanding, a grim resolve pulsing through him at his godfather's words.

"I have arranged for your passage back to the manor via the Floo network. You are to leave now." Snape continued, standing up and gesturing towards the grand fireplace.

"No. I I have to tell Hermione-"

"It's not safe."

"At least let me write a letter, but she must know. I can't just leave her." Snape's expression hardened, but he nodded sharply in reluctant acquiescence, opening a desk draw and passing Draco a quill and parchment. Draco dipped the feathered quill into Snape's jade inkwell, quickly scribbling out a message, before magically sealing the letter and handing it to Snape, who tucked it into his robes.

"Please look out for her." Draco felt himself almost beg – even though Hermione should be safe at Hogwarts there was no telling what would happen, with Umbridge in control of the school and Voldemort set to return.

"I'll keep an eye on Miss Granger, I promise." Snape replied sincerely.

Together, they stepped towards the Floo.

"Be careful. Keep your Occlumency shields up constantly." Snape squeezed his godson's shoulder in an uncharacteristic gesture of support. Draco swallowed audibly as he stepped into the cold fireplace, pushing down the apprehension and letting a familiar mask of haughty disinterest slip over his features. He nodded once at his godfather in shared understanding, before calling out: "Malfoy Manor!"

The last thing he saw was Snape's own emotionless mask drop, half a second too soon; the imagine of his godfather's worried expression, tinted sickly green by the rising flames, seared itself into Draco's thoughts as he spun away.

(x) (x) (x)

"Draco, darling!" He heard his mother cry as he stepped out of the marble fireplace and into their expansive parlour, minutes later. Narcissa had been seated stiffly on one of the velvet setees placed around the fire, but had leapt up anxiously as soon as the green flames had risen.

"Not now, Mopsy." Draco said, dismissing the elf that had scurried over, brush in hand, to wipe the soot off his expensive robes. He strode towards his mother, stopping in front of her and allowing her to embrace him tightly, noting with dismay that she felt much frailer in his arms than she had at Christmas. The pale green silk of her voluminous evening gown seemed to hang off her frame, and her face looked gaunt with worry.

"What's going on? Why have I been brought home?" He pulled away sharply, staring down at her.

"Your father is supping in the dining room with some  _colleagues_." Her bony hand squeezed his arm in warning. "He will explain everything when he comes through."

He watched her pale blue eyes flit round the room, then glance back at him, her face filled with caution and worry. It was clear the manor was no longer safe to talk in. He nodded back at her in understanding, and her face immediately broke into a familiar relaxed smile. It was one he'd seen brought out often at tedious social occasions – she was a master at being the carefree, pureblood wife.

"You must be tired darling; the hour is rather late." She remarked lightly, glancing at the clock and leading Draco over to the setee, pressing him into the seat before settling herself down, arranging her embroidered ball gown delicately to allow herself to sit.

"Yes, I am, quite." It had been a rather eventful day, and Draco was now feeling it's effects sharply. He couldn't quite believe that an hour previously he'd been wrapped in Hermione's arms. The thought of leaving her, so suddenly and without a proper goodbye, twisted round in his gut. He hoped,  _prayed_ , that his rushed letter would be enough.

Narcissa clicked her fingers, stirring him from his thoughts, and the floppy-eared house elf materialised immediately out of a dark corner of the room.

"Yes miss?" She small elf squeaked, twisting her raggedy tea-towel toga in her spindly hands.

"Bring us some coffee please, strong."

"Of course, miss." Mopsy bowed, her overly-large head bobbing almost comically, before she scurried back into the shadows.

"Are you well, Mother?" Draco asked quietly, leaning forward and clasping one of Narcissa's cold hands in his own.

"As well as ever, darling." She brushed the question aside, patting their entwined hands and smiling across at him.

"Tell me dear, how is your studying going?" She continued, launching into a barrage of questions about Hogwarts and its related gossip. She paused only when Mopsy arrived, bearing a large tray piled high with goodies; the silver coffee service rattling in the elf's small hands as she placed it on the low mahogany table in front of them. The rich aroma swirled through the room as she poured them two steaming cups, proffering the cream and sugar for their perusal, before disappearing back into the shadows once more.

Draco had just brought the coffee to his lips when he heard it – steps in the hallway getting increasingly louder, then raucous laughter. He exchanged a small glance with his mother, both of them fortifying themselves for what was to come. Seconds later, the door banged open.

Lucius swaggered in, followed closely by a sniggering posse of former Death Eaters, all clad in formal black and white dinner-wear. First was Avery, then Crabbe and Goyle Sr – those lucky enough to have been acquitted of their crimes after the war. Then that snivelling rat, Pettigrew, his mouth tight in an anxious, weaselly smile. Draco watched carefully as Theodore Nott Sr. brought up the rear of the group, his hooded eyes fixing themselves immediately on Narcissa, a dangerous desire shifting in their dark depths. Draco stood up, moving subtly in front of his mother as he nodded haughtily in greeting at the assembled men.

"Father." He smiled coldly at the tall man in front of him, taking in his appearance. Lucius was perfectly turned out, as always, his trademark hair sleek and shiny, his dinner robes clearly new and expensive, but Draco saw the lines around his father's eyes that hadn't been there previously, and the throbbing tension in his strong jaw. This was evidently not a situation of his making. His father stepped forward, embracing Draco in welcome; clearly for his assembled colleagues' benefits. Lucius' arms felt rigid around him, and when he stepped back, his father's face was briefly drawn in worry. His familiar smirk slid quickly back into place as he gestured widely at the assembled men.

"Welcome home son, we're glad to have you join us."

* * *

Hermione had stood in a corner of the castle entrance hall since a quarter to 7 in the morning, desperate to see Draco, her anxiety increasing exponentially as the minutes ticked by and her blonde lover was nowhere to be seen. She'd had to give up the wait at half past eight, when Harry and Ginny arrived, full of questions as to why she was at breakfast so early. She'd mumbled something about an early revision session, and being 'still full from last night' but Harry and Ginny had swiftly shot her excuses down with blatant concern. In an effort to alleviate their worry, she'd finally conceded to go into the hall and have a bite of toast. Hopefully she'd see Draco there –  _maybe he'd overslept…_

But none of it made sense. Draco  _always_ came to breakfast bright and early; he told her once it was so he could nab the crispiest bacon before it was all gone. But bacon aside, she knew he wouldn't keep her waiting like this, he would've told her, kept her updated somehow. She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened the night before – her mind replayed the scene over and over again until the memories became twisted; Images of Snape bursting in on them, looming down over them, his dark eyes flashing, his voice snarling… She pushed these thoughts down, focused on seeing Draco later. She'd catch sight of him in the hallway, he'd give her that same old cocky smirk, and everything would all be alright. At the very least, she had double potions with him last lesson so would see him then, she kept reassuring herself.

The early morning chatter faded to a soft hum as she anxiously scanned the Slytherin table, looking for any sign of a that familiar whitish blond hair. Blaise sat in his usual spot, Theo and Draco's seats empty around him. The handsome Italian sipped his pumpkin juice absently, his own eyes fixed intently on the Gryffindor table.

"Are you alright Hermione?" Neville's soft voice stirred her from her searching.

"Fine thanks." She turned and reassured him with a forced smile. Neville's eyes flicked between her and the Slytherin table, a knowing look in their depths.

_Merlin, does Neville somehow know?!_

She glanced back at a now-smirking Blaise, who was tracing one long finger round the rim of his goblet, his dark eyes fixed firmly on Neville, who had begun to blush profusely. Momentarily distracted from the missing Draco situation, Hermione turned back to Neville, her amber eyes wide and shocked.

"Neville! Are you and Blaise...  _together_?" She whispered, making sure the early morning chatter of their fellow Gryffindors muffled her words. Neville's blush increased to a deep beetroot.

"Not here!' He hissed, standing up. He haphazardly scooped his toad, Trevor, who had been slyly dipping his long tongue into Lavender's pumpkin juice, off the table and onto his shoulder, before turning and hurrying out of the great hall. Hermione scrambled to gather all her books together before quickly following him, shooting one last look at a smirking Blaise and calling out a 'studying Herbology with Nev, bye!' excuse to the rest of their curious friends. Almost as soon as she was out of the double doors, Neville yanked her into quiet alcove, casting a shaky  _Muffliato_ for good measure.

"I know about you and Draco." He blurted out, almost as a threat, shoulders tense and wand still half-raised.

"That's ok." Hermione shrugged, hoping it came across calm and placatory. Her forced nonchalance worked; Neville immediately deflated, lowering his wand and looking suddenly scared and sad.

"Please don't tell anyone." He begged, his voice rising as he continued. "My grandmother doesn't know anything. She wouldn't understand… me with a boy, and certainly not with a Slytherin."

"Of course, of course I won't!" Hermione reassured, pulling her much taller friend into a tight hug. "You were my first friend at Hogwarts, I'll love you no matter what. Just make sure Blaise takes good care of you."

"He does." Neville smiled blissfully for one quick moment. "What about Draco? He hurt you terribly before… Is it serious? Is  _he_ serious?" He stepped back, looking at down her with uncharacteristic acuity.

"Very much so." Hermione nodded, thinking of her blond lover's earnest declarations the night before. "What about you and Blaise?"

"Yes, I-I think so." Neville beamed. Hermione smiled back, reaching out and squeezing Neville's large hand. They sighed in unison; Neville looked as relieved as Hermione felt. She couldn't believe that she had found another Gryffindor that not only understood, but was in the same position. She had a sudden thought –  _maybe Neville could help?_

"Neville, have you seen Draco this morning? Or has Blaise mentioned him?" She blurted out, her panic abating slightly at finally being able to  _tell_ someone about what was going on. Keeping everything bottled up was driving her utterly mad.

"Why, did something happen?" He replied, his brunet brows knitting together in concern.

"Professor Snape walked in on us…  _together_ , in the Astronomy tower last night. He dragged Draco off to his office and I haven't seen him since." She chewed her bottom lip anxiously, her childhood nervous tic returning in full force. Neville grimaced, no doubt thinking of the atrocity of having a teacher burst in on such a forbidden activity.

"Hmmm… You're probably better off with it being Snape than anyone else." He remarked, thoughtfully. Hermione shook her head, but Neville continued.

"Draco is the  _only_  student Snape likes. He won't have done anything except give him a stern telling off, probably."

"I suppose, Snape is his godfather… but Draco never misses breakfast and he always manages to get some kind of note to me, he'd never just dis-" The shrill ringing of the bell interrupted her, signalling the start of morning classes. The pair jumped apart as students of all houses began to stream out of the great hall.

"I've got to go to Herbology, but I'll ask Blaise if he knows anything." Neville said, nodding to her in understanding as he began to move away, joining the flow of people moving towards the front doors of the castle. "Don't worry! We'll find him." He turned back and called, his earnest smile doing little to calm the churning worry in her stomach.

"Hermione?" She turned round at the sound of Harry's voice; he was strolling out from the great hall to meet her, with a laughing Lavender and Ron following shortly behind. "What did Neville want?"

"Oh, just a chat about the Herbology NEWT. Not that he needs it!" Hermione attempted a casual laugh.

"But what was he saying about 'We'll find him', who's him?"

"Err- Crookshanks!" Hermione scrambled to cover her lie. "I said I hadn't seen Crookshanks in a while and was worried about him."

"But I saw Crookshanks in the common room this morning, in his usual cushion next to the fireplace." Harry narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced by her blustering. This was the second time he'd caught her in the hallway, blatantly distracted and anxious. She knew Harry thought she was acting strangely, but she just couldn't stop.

"Oh, um, was he? I didn't see him." Hermione gave what she hoped was a relieved smile.

"Hermione… are you-" Harry began again, cautiously, as she madly racked her brains for a more-believable lie. Mercifully, Ron chose the perfect moment to interrupt.

"You two coming? You know what Flitwick does to latecomers, and for once I'd like to do  _without_ being forced to dance. I think Parvati broke my toe in our waltz last week." He grinned ruefully. Lavender laughed and playfully slapped her ginger beau's arm in mock-chastisement as they set off up the stairs.

"Yes, we'd better go." Hermione capitalised on the moment, moving past Harry to follow the couple ahead. Harry quietly agreed, but she could feel his eyes on her back as he followed her up the stairs to Charms.

Thankfully, Harry seemed to forget his suspicion after a vigorous bout of solo can-can, having fallen foul of the Charms latecomer's rule. His embarrassment was enthusiastically enforced by a delighted Flitwick, who clapped along excitedly from atop his towering pile of books, being much the fan of the modern French dance. By the time Harry finally sat down, sweaty and red in the face, he was laughing and chatting with her as usual, the dance having taken his mind off their previous conversation. This left her her totally free to panic internally about Draco – she could only hope Neville had heard something from Blaise.

* * *

The rest of the day ticked by in an anxious daze. She mucked up the spell in charms, not getting the hand motion correct (much to Ron's enjoyment), and she even stuttered over her answers to McGonagall's questions in Transfiguration. By the time she reached the shared Gryffindor/Slytherin potions lesson at the end of the day she was at her wit's end, not having seen or heard even a whisper of her blond lover, and to cap it all off, having to see Snape was as awful as she could've imagined.

"Miss Granger." He'd almost snickered as she walked in, and she'd had to make do with meekly whispering a ' _Good afternoon Professor Snape_ ' while determinedly looking at the floor. She felt his dark eyes linger on her scornfully as she scanned the room nervously for Draco, her anxiety increasing exponentially as the lesson started and there was  _still_ no sign of his familiar blond head. The lesson moved at an excruciating pace; every time the door opened or a desk creaked she whipped round to see if it was Draco strolling in (it never was), and by the end of the lesson Harry again had that suspicious look in his eye. Even worse, Snape had seemingly delighted in her predicament, frequently calling attention to her –  _Miss Granger, eyes on the board please! –_ and had appeared almost overjoyed when her Confusing Concoction was not up to it's usual perfect standard. By the end of the lesson, she felt like her brain was about to explode, fit to bursting by the swirling thoughts of Draco, Harry  _and_ Snape. She was beyond relieved when the bell rang and she could go and find Neville, eagerly hoping he'd heard something from Blaise. She was haphazardly shoving her potions making kit into her already bursting satchel when a shadow fell over the desk, dashing her hopes of an early getaway.

"Miss Granger, I'd like a word please." Snape turned heel and walked back to his desk. Hermione glanced at a confused Harry, who nodded his head towards the door in unspoken communication – he'd wait outside til she was done. She finished packing her bag as the last few students trickled out, and by the time she had walked over to stand in front of Snape's expansive desk, the room was empty.

"Where's Draco?" She blurted out, defiantly, sick of waiting and worrying. She braced herself for a snide retort, which never came. Instead, to her astonishment, Snape simply sighed.

"Sit down please, Miss Granger." He motioned to the straight-backed chair facing the desk. As she slowly took a seat, she heard the classroom door click locked behind her in a silent  _Colloportus_ charm. With another wave of his wand, he cast what she could only guess to be a silencing spell, blocking Harry, or anyone else, from hearing what he was about to say. Silence fell once more as he slowly opened a desk drawer, and the quiet shuffling of paper was the only noise echoing in the dungeon room.

"Where's-" She began again, impatient, before being swiftly cut off by a disgruntled Snape.

"I heard you the first time Miss Granger." Snape sniffed, raising his dark brows at her disdainfully. She gritted her teeth, biting back a retort as he continued:

"Draco has been called home."

"What? Why?" She cut in, her voice coming out high in panic. "Do they know?"

The thought of his parents punishing him for their romance terrified her.

"They don't know about your… connection,  _yet_." Hermione felt herself visibly relax at his words, realising she'd been holding her breath in tension.

"I need not remind you these are dangerous times, Miss Granger." Snape remarked, watching her carefully. He paused, as if to assess her. "A small group of Death Eaters currently holding court at Malfoy Manor intend to resurrect the Dark Lord within the coming days and weeks. Draco has been called home to serve him." Hermione blanched, hearing her heart beat loudly in her ears as she gripped the edges of the chair to try and steady herself.

"As I'm sure you know, the Order are working hard to prevent this. Currently the Death Eaters have no idea that the Order are aware of their plans." He pressed on, and she realised he was a much bigger part of this than any of them had understood.

"But I don't understand – what does Draco have to do with this?" Hermione questioned feebly, the sick realisation beginning to dawn on her even as the words fell from her mouth.

"If I insisted Draco stayed at the school, missing the Dark Lord's resurrection and thereby out of harms way when the Order clash with the Death Eaters, it would expose me as a traitor to their cause. I – and by extension, Draco – must appear to be loyal followers of Lord Voldemort." Snape pushed his hair out of his eyes, looking suddenly very tired. "The Dark Lord will not rise, but in order to keep up this façade, Draco must stay at the manor and feign allegiance. He will return when the time is right." Hermione nodded mutely along to what the potions professor was saying – the logic was undeniable, even if the thought made her sick with worry.

"How will he be able to leave? They are still his parents, and the manor is still his home, regardless of allegiance or following." Hermione mused aloud.

"I think, perhaps he has found something he cares about more than his parents or the manor." Snape remarked pointedly. The thought made her smile slightly, as Snape continued.

"Draco asked me to give you this." He pulled out a folded piece of parchment from the desk drawer, and slid it across the table towards her. She took it, mutely, clutching it close with trembling fingers. "I would suggest reading it in the privacy of your dormitory, for secrecy's sake." He unlocked the door with a scarcely-audible click, and motioned for her to leave. Hermione tucked the crumpled note into her dress, concealing it under her corset, wanting to physically feel it, safe by her skin. She got up on shaky legs, turning away from the desk and the man sitting behind it. She'd almost reached the heavy, wooden door when Snape spoke:

"Be careful, Miss Granger." He whispered, in a voice so quiet and soft she half-doubted he had spoken at all. The unexpected words broke something in her, as if the dark part of her holding all the anger and fear had cracked open, the putrid emotions spilling out and overflowing at a rate she couldn't control. She wrenched open the heavy door and dashed out, the tears already sliding down her cheeks. She blindly registered Harry leaning against the opposite wall, but stumbled past, ignoring his cry of 'Hermione!'. She needed to get away before Harry got to her; she could see it in her mind's eye: his green eyes kind and gentle, her best friend pulling her into his arms as she broke down and told him everything… and then he would never look at her that way again. She raced away up the stairs, pushing sobbing panic  _down, down, down_ , until she she could reach the privacy of her small four-poster. Mercifully, the hallways and staircases were almost empty, everyone was outside enjoying the spring sunshine, and all she encountered was a few odd stares as she ran through the hallways. Having finally made it to the top of Gryffindor tower she tried to compose herself; wanting to alleviate any gossip from curious housemates she messily wiped her eyes and sniffed, before turning to face the Fat Lady.

"Vernum Evigilationem." She wheezed out the password to the curious woman, who was leaning exaggeratedly forward to watch Hermione cry. Having hastily rearranged herself on the chair, the Fat Lady – to her credit – simply raised her eyebrows and wordlessly swung forward to let Hermione through. The pink-clad portrait was sure to have told the entirety of Gryffindor house about a sobbing Hermione by that evening, but she would worry about that later. She hurried through the empty common room and up the stairs; the soles of her boots clicking on the exposed flagsontes. She reached her circular room at last, crossing the room in a few fast strides she hastily shed her school robes and moved to sit on the bed, tucking her still-booted feet under her. She yanked the curtains closed and  _Muffliato_ 'dthe small space quickly, before pulling the warm letter out and unfurling it with trembling fingers, scanning the words quickly with tear-filled eyes.

" _My love, Hermione-_

_I'm so sorry I couldn't meet with you this morning – Snape will hopefully have explained what has happened, and why I am no longer with you at Hogwarts. Words cannot express how aggrieved I am to have to go and leave you alone, and just as we have discovered each other again. These last few weeks have been the most perfect in my life, and I will treasure them always. I love you – keep yourself safe. I will be back with you as soon as I can._

_Yours, forever,_

_D.M."_

She pressed her lips together to stop the sobs coming, tracing his familiar writing with the tip of a finger. Even in his rushed state, his script was neat, uniform, not an inkblot or smudge in sight.

_If I had written this letter it would be a scrappy mess… only Draco can still be neat when stuck in a nightmare…_

The rogue thought made her burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all, and that was it, the emotions finally burst forth. The giggles quickly developed a slightly hysterical edge, and as the sobs started the rational part of Hermione's brain was glad she had silenced the curtained bed. She sat, cross legged, letter clutched open in her hands, letting herself cry and cry. Her thoughts swirled and jumbled together; she was so scared of what might happen to him if they found out, if he let his cover slip even an inch.

_Draco in love with a mudblood… stuck among the Death Eaters… allied with a madman…_

Suddenly, as if enchanted, she was so very  _tired._ Oh so achingly exhausted, as if the crushing worry had finally pressed a button in her brain, and it was shutting itself down. She slowly curled up, pulling the blankets over herself, tucking her legs in tight and wrapping her arms up close to her chest, the letter still grasped in one tight fist. Absent-mindedly, she brought the crumpled parchment up to her nose – searching for that familiar, comforting smell.

_Parchment… books… cleanliness… but something else there too - Sandalwood, the earth… that unique exacting fragrance… Draco always did smell so good…_

She was lulled into a restless sleep, slipping between worlds in a state of not-quite wakefulness, only finally dropping off at the memory of Draco's strong arms wrapped around her.

* * *

A rhythmic  _tap-tap-tap_ woke her from her fitful sleep. She was so bone tired, it felt as if she'd not slept at all, but must've been at least an hour. It took what felt like an insurmountable effort to even sit up, but once Hermione was up she found it easier to keep going; pushing the blankets off herself, opening the bed curtains and placing her booted feet on the stone floor. She crossed to the window slowly, cautious as to what this new surprise might be.

_Tap, Tap, Tap…_

Her heart soared as she pulled the curtains back, catching sight of a familiar bird in the window – Draco's eagle owl knocked its sharp beak against the glass, eager to be let in. She hastily undid the latch, letting the magnificent bird swoop in; it circled the room before landing back on the stone sill and proffering its leg for her to take the scroll tied there. The owl eyed her almost scornfully as she fumbled to undo the small fastenings, her fingers unresponsive after her nap. She carefully unfurled the note as soon as it was loose, delighted to see the page covered in rows and rows of familiar script:

" _My own Hermione,_

_I've managed to write; a feat I wasn't sure I'd be able to undertake. It is safe to talk, but all communication must be done through Anax-"_

At this, the majestic eagle owl hooted, as if sensing his mention in Draco's letter. Hermione smiled briefly, her eyes eagerly devouring her lover's neat words.

" _-If I stop communicating,_ _please_ _do not worry yourself, I can only write sporadically as not to arouse suspicion. I have made Snape promise to keep you updated of anything I cannot write._

_I'm sorry my last note to you was such a rush, and for you this morning – you must have felt terribly panicked at my disappearance. I'm back at the manor, but it's not the home I know and love anymore. My mother is ill with worry, and I think my father may finally be losing what little is left of his sanity, although he is nothing compared to the 'guests' he is entertaining. Despite this, I am fine here, for the moment, so I hope you are not too worried. I am biding my time and thinking of what we shall do when we are together again._

_I found a ribbon of yours in my pocket (in bloody Gryffindor colours!), it must've been from our last night together. I'll tie it back in your hair the next night we are together, but for now it joins the first note you sent me – hidden safe under my pillow. I've transfigured them to look like pictures of the Slytherin Quidditch team, but Merlin hopes I still dream of you and not them though!_

_Tell me the gossip of the school – Umbridge's latest decree, the most recent scandal, anything. I'll even listen to the tedium of Potty and Weaselbee's antics, if I can read it in your hand and know you are thinking of me. In some ways, perhaps I am better here than at a Hogwarts run by Umbridge (that sullen toad!), although you know I would put up with a thousand sullen toads to be with you, my love._

_I must go, but I eagerly await your reply._

_I love you._

_Yours,_

_D.M._

_P/S: Could you let Theo and Blaise know where I am? I am sure my godfather's communication will not extend to include them, though they must be wondering at my absence."_

She beamed down at the letter – it was so expressive and emotive she could almost hear Draco speak the words written in front of her, particularly the part about Umbridge, and his teasing of Harry and Ron.

_Bloody Malfoy, I'll have to tell him off for that!_

Reading his note had given her a renewed sense of vigour; she'd faced adversity before and could face it again, and come out stronger each time. In her years at Hogwarts she'd helped Harry defeat Voldemort twice, and had part-orchestrated the escape of Azkaban's most famous prisoner – maybe she was due another adventure.

_Perhaps problems like this are simply to be expected in my life…_

Anax clicked his beak impatiently, stirring her from her musings and launching her into action. She pulled some clean parchment from her bedside table, and using  _Hogwarts: A History_ as a makeshift desk, she began to write – pages and pages of gossip, stories, platitudes, her love poured into each and every word.

She had just tied the letter to Anax's leg and sent him off with a handful of owl treats when the dormitory door burst open. Hermione jumped away from the window as Lavender and Pavarti walked in; she pretended to be admiring the view from the tall tower as she desperately hoped they hadn't seen Anax swoop off into the sky.

"Hermione! There you are, Harry's looking for you." Lavender simpered, pulling off her heavy school robes and hanging them on a hook by her bed.

"Oh- I wonder why?" Hermione replied innocently, trying to gauge what Harry might have said, and whether he had let slip about her crying spell after Potions.

"I wouldn't know – homework I presume?" Lavender shrugged, sweeping her golden hair off her face. Hermione smiled, sighing inwardly at her roommate's clear obliviousness. The less people that knew about the situation, the better.

"It looks like you've already done it though." The blonde witch continued, gesturing at Hermione's bed. Hermione's blood ran cold in her veins as she realised Draco's letters were still open on her bed, her parchment and quill sitting alongside.

"Oh erm, yes, just some transfiguration homework!" Hermione blustered, hoping neither of the girls would take a closer look.

"Of course, what else would it be?" Lavender rolled her eyes.

"It could be a love letter!" Parvati teased, butting in from the other side of the room.

"Don't be silly Par." Lavender laughed, unkindly, sharing a look with her best friend. Hermione crossed the room swiftly, scooping up the letters and placing them into her locked bedside draw, before turning slowly to look directly into Lavender's wide blue eyes.

"You're right Lavender, I'm not getting love letters." She replied in sickly sweet tone, beaming disconcertingly at her pretty roommate. "But then I daresay you're not either – Ron's not really the romantic type, is he? Has he told you he loves you yet, or is he saving that to get you out of your drawers?"

Parvati gasped audibly, while Lavender's jaw dropped open so far that Hermione was sure the blonde witch could've fitted one of Trelawney's crystal balls neatly into her mouth. Hermione didn't wait for a reply.

"It is hot, isn't it? I think I'll have a bath before dinner." She continued, striding decisively into the bathroom before either Lavender or Parvati could protest, shutting the door firmly behind her and leaning against it. She  _knew_ what she'd said was wrong, but she was so sick of the girls' incessant teasing, and after the very trying day she'd simply snapped.

_Perhaps I should apologise…_

She crossed to the bath, running the taps and adding some lavender oil to the gushing water, for serenity –  _Much needed after the day I've had! –_ before slowly stripping off, placing her clothes into a neat pile and stepping gingerly into the claw-footed tub. Sinking down into the steaming water, she let out a long sigh, closing her eyes. She tried to picture what Draco's face would look like when he opened her letter, his grey eyes sparkling and that familiar smirk playing on his lips, her thoughts of him filling her mind; letting her worries drift away in the steam…


	5. Whispering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I still own nothing, sadly.
> 
> SO sorry for this slow update, I've had a mad week with work stuff! This was written on my phone 'notes' on several different trains (Virgin Rail can DIE), so I hope it all ties together ok! I'd love to hear your thoughts, please read/review! Love, as always xx

"Nearly, try it again!" Luna beamed, turning sideways to look at Theo as a small silvery puff sighed out of the end of his wand. She'd squashed up next to him on the narrow hospital bed once Madam Pomfrey had bustled back into her office, both hopeful she'd leave them in peace for at least a few hours. Theo had barely been able to concentrate on anything but the feel of her warm body pressed up against his, their shoulders jostling as they swished their wands.

"Right, after me –  _Expecto Patronum_!"

Theo watched as a silvery hare shot out of the tip of Luna's pinewood wand, hopping and lolling round the room as if jumping through invisible grass.

It was Wednesday, he'd been in hospital for four long days, but Madam Pomfrey was  _finally_  letting him out – after a discussion with Professor McGonagall she'd agreed he could be released after dinner that evening. Luna had watched, smiling encouragingly as his bandages had been slowly unwound. She'd agreed to charm glamours over the angry pink scars before they left later.

The dreamy Ravenclaw had visited every single day, sitting with him whenever she wasn't in class and chattering away, arriving early in the morning and staying until Madam Pomfrey invariably kicked her out around curfew time. Draco or Blaise had often joined them for some of the time, although his blond best friend had been strangely absent all day, with not even Blaise knowing where he was. Theo had seen the matron watch approvingly as his friends had kept him company, particularly Luna, who raised his spirits and vastly improved his disposition. She'd read to him from The Quibbler (even making him wear these ridiculous coloured glasses at one point), fed him vast amounts of Honeydukes finest chocolate, and today had even taken to teaching him how to cast a Patronus charm, slyly omitting the fact that to do so made him focus solely on his happiest memories.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on an old memory of Luna giggling as she lay down in a patch of wildflowers near her house, her golden hair shining round her head like a halo, the deep blue of her dress a perfect match for the azure sky above.

"Expecto Patronum!" He cried out, opening his eyes and watching as a silvery hare launched out of the end of his ash wand, lolloping over to join Luna's.

"You did it! I knew you could"

Luna threw her arms around him and hugged him close, resting her head against his shoulder as he squeezed her tightly.

"It's funny how your Patronus is a hare too." She murmured, her breath tickling the exposed skin of his neck as she made no move to pull away. Theo hummed in reply, resting his head against the soft spun gold of her hair, inhaling her subtle scent of lavender and fresh air.

The door handle creaked, then began to slowly turn; Theo jerked away from the embrace at the noise, realising seconds later that he might have upset Luna in his haste. Luckily, she didn't seem to mind, flashing him a soft smile and cuddling into his shoulder. They watched curiously as an anxious-looking Hermione Granger tiptoed quietly into the large hospital wing.

"Theo, Luna – hi!" The frizzy-haired witch suddenly spotted them and smiled nervously, closing the door softly behind her.

"Hermione! What are you doing here?" Luna smiled serenely at the short witch, who hovered awkwardly by the door.

"I just-"

"Ah, I thought I'd heard someone come in." Madam Pomfrey interrupted, poking her head out of her office door. "Do you need anything, Miss Granger?"

"No, I'm just here to see Theo." Hermione smiled, exuding a familiar charm that seemed to make nearly all of the Hogwarts staff utterly enamoured of her.

_What does Hermione want with me? We've never spoken outside of class…_

Theo shot a curious glance at Luna, who simply shrugged her shoulders, gentle smile fixed firmly in place.

"Very well, but he's being released soon so don't overexert him." The matron smiled at the Gryffindor girl, as if already sure that Hermione would be the perfect visitor to her ward. She shot a slightly reproving look at him and Luna, still squashed together on the bed, raising her eyebrows pointedly at their entwined hands, but didn't say anything, instead disappearing back into her office and shutting the door.

"I'm sorry to interrupt-" Hermione began, crossing the stone floor to sit gingerly in the vacated chair by Theo's bed. "-but I needed to talk to you Theo. I don't suppose it matters if you hear this too Luna…" She blurted out, before pausing.

"Sorry, I should've said – How are you doing, Theo?" She admonished herself, her warm eyes staring at him softly.

"I'm…  _alright_." Theo shrugged, exchanging another glance with Luna.

"I'm so glad to hear it." She replied sincerely, her round face breaking into a brief, dimpled smile, before clouding over again with worry. She glanced round at Pomfrey's closed office door, before muttering a quiet silencing spell. Suddenly, Theo was intrigued; whatever she had to say was clearly top secret.

"I'm not sure if you know, but Draco disappeared from school yesterday-" She began quietly, leaning forward and resting her forearms against the bed. "-he's been called home as the Death Eaters want to resurrect Voldemort. He's-"

"What? Where did you find this out? And how to  _you_  know?" Theo interrupted, his brain running a mile a minute at her whispered reveal.

"Snape told me, and Draco wrote to me."

It was only then that Theo noticed she held something tightly in her hand: a rather bedraggled-looking, folded piece of parchment.

"Sorry, I'm rather lost – why would Draco write to  _you_?"

"Oh Theo, because he loves her, silly." Luna giggled sweetly beside him, squeezing his hand. Hermione nodded, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

"Draco's doing alright, but his communication is limited. He sent me this." She held out the letter for him to see.

"May I-?" Theo asked politely, itching to grab the letter, although his pre-Hogwarts etiquette lessons with the finest pureblood Governess held him in check. Hermione silently acquiesced, and the room lapsed into silence as he quickly scanned it, with Luna peering over his shoulder to read it too. It was clear by Draco's passionate words that he cared deeply for the petite witch sitting by the bed.

"Does Blaise know?" Theo asked when he'd finished the letter, folding it carefully and passing it back to Hermione.

"Not yet." She shook her head, tucking the parchment back safe into her robes.

"I'll tell him tonight. Who else knows?"

"Just Professor Snape, and us. Blaise and Neville know Draco's gone but not why."

" _Neville?"_

"Oh Theo, you can't tell me you didn't know about them either? Hermione and Draco were rather discreet, but Blaise and Neville have been positively blatant in their courtship!" Luna laughed gaily. Theo saw Hermione hide a smile.

_Blaise Zabini and Neville Longbottom…? Well, this was a turn up for the works…_

"I suppose I  _did_  wonder where Blaise kept sneaking off to..."

"Don't worry, I only found out this morning, and most people don't know. I think Luna's just particularly observant." Hermione smiled sympathetically.

"That she is." Theo replied quietly, exchanging a knowing glace with his blonde love. Hermione watched them, a sad expression clouding her amber eyes.

"You must be very worried about Draco." Luna said suddenly, leaning over and patting Hermione's small hand. The chestnut-haired witch nodded, her lips pressed together tightly.

"I was thinking actually; maybe we could all meet, those of us who know the situation, and see if there's anything we can do to help. Draco's stuck at the manor and he can't do anything, but we're can. At the very least, we should research some of the things the Death Eaters say." She raised her head, looking at both of them determinedly.

Theo looked at her sadly, suddenly realising how lonely the Gryffindor witch must be feeling – there's no way she'd be able to tell the great Harry Potter or his sidekick Ron Weasley about what had happened, not with their known hatred of Draco.

"I think that's a great idea Hermione, and it'll keep us from feeling so worried about him." Luna replied, seeing the secret motive in Hermione's words. When worried – keep busy with schoolwork.

"When were you thinking?" She continued, taking Hermione's hand so the three of them became linked like a chain. Hermione smiled at them both, her doe eyes wide with relief.

"I was thinking Saturday afternoon; everyone will be at the Quidditch game. The library should be deserted; we can meet there." She replied decisively, clearly sure of the logical nature of her idea. Theo recognised the subtle 'well-thought out plan phrased as a random suggestion'; Draco had always favoured that style of speech.

It was at that moment that Theo realised how alike Draco and Hermione were. The seemingly goody-two shoed Gryffindor and his cunning, charismatic friend seemed like an odd couple, but speaking to Hermione in person and the content of the love letter opened Theo's eyes, and now the obviousness of their match stared him in the face. He smiled at Hermione, admiring the grim determination she showed.

"Good idea, I'll let Blaise know-" He replied, not a second too soon, as Madam Pomfrey bustled out of the back room.

"Right, I think you're ready to go, young man!" The matron appeared by the bed with a steaming goblet of Pepperup Potion. "Now, drink this up, it'll set you in good stead to see everyone again."

"I'll head off, but I'll see you tomorrow?" Hermione stood up, looking at Theo resolutely.

"Of course, see you then." He replied sincerely, as Luna trilled out a 'bye Hermione!'.

Hermione smiled at them warmly and started to leave, but didn't get more than five steps before the door burst open and Professor McGonagall hurried in.

"Poppy-! Stop, we can't let him go yet." The Scottish witch called out anxiously, her dark green robes flapping around her as she strode over. Madam Pomfrey set the smoking potion on Theo's bedside table, turning to her colleague with a confused expression.

"I thought we'd agreed-"

"Change of plan." The deputy headmistress cut her off sharply. "I need to speak to you in your office."

Theo watched as the teachers bent together and began to converse in hurried whispers as they strode towards the back room. Theo exchanged a confused glance with Hermione, he was sure he'd heard a whisper of 'the Malfoy boy' and 'Umbridge' before the door had slammed shut with a bang, and by the intrigued look in Hermione's amber eyes he was sure she'd heard it too. He watched as she hovered by the door, torn between listening and leaving as intended. She quickly gave in, crossing over to the bed and sitting back down, her eyes focused upwards on the ceiling, unseeing as she strained to hear.

"Do you think this has anything to do with Draco?" Luna whispered.

"Most definitely." Hermione replied, glancing towards the closed door.

"It's too much of a coincidence otherwise-" Theo began, suddenly freezing as McGonagall walked out of the office, her mouth in a tight smile.

"Theo, I must speak to you in private."

He began to protest, and she quickly cut him off.

"Yes, Miss Lovegood can stay, I know you'll only tell her anyway-" She stopped suddenly, noticing the frizzy haired witch perched by the other side of the bed.

"Miss Granger, forgive me, but I thought you were leaving?" McGonagall stopped still, staring down at her Gryffindor pupil with a hawkish look in her eye.

"Yes, of course." Hermione muttered back as she was frogmarched to the door by the strong-willed Deputy Headmistress.

"I'll tell Blaise." She mouthed, glancing back at Theo anxiously as he nodded in reply.

"Don't dawdle now, dinner's nearly over." McGonagall finished, ushering her star pupil out through the door. With a rousing bang, the door was shut and Hermione was gone.

* * *

 

Draco swilled his firewhisky round the fine, crystal glass, uncaring as it slopped over the rim slightly and splashed onto his hand. Vincent Crabbe snored quietly beside him on the green velvet setee; he'd arrived from school that morning, dragged out to join them, like Lucius had done with Draco. Unlike Draco, his fellow Slytherin Crabbe clearly didn't have the calibre to keep up with the Death-Eaters' late night 'planning sessions', having fallen asleep rather quickly, his whisky languishing in one dumpy hand. Draco's own drink had gone warm from the crackling fire, the ice long melted; and while the others guzzled the expensive alcohol he only sipped it, wanting to remain alert. His mind unconsciously drifted towards Hermione, to what he might write to her tonight when he was finally excused to bed. He missed her terribly, although in thinking of her he was careful to keep his mind blank and his expression haughty.

"Pettigrew's making good progress, he thinks the Dark Lord may be in Eastern Europe somewhere." Draco heard his father say as he paced the room slowly, the only Death Eater up and moving while all the others languished in the leather-bound chairs.

"I'm still not confident in the abilities of a man that spent twelve years as a rat, but he'll have to do." Theodore Nott Sr. replied. "Where is the snivelling vermin, anyway?"

"He retired early, claiming exhaustion. He always did prefer to wank himself silly instead of partaking in an evening's delights." Lucius said, prompting raucous laughter from the assembled Death-Eaters. Crabbe jumped awake, slopping his firewhisky over himself at the loud guffawing.

"You utter  _dunce_!" Draco heard Crabbe Sr. hiss at his son, as the younger unsuccessfully tried to dab the alcohol off his robes. Draco looked over with feigned repulsion, conjuring a silent drying charm on his housemate's clothes, willing no one to notice the act.

"Aww, I think our ickle recruits must be feeling rather tired." Avery teased drunkenly, slopping his own whisky in laughter as he watched Crabbe Jr. rub his tired eyes.

"You're lucky our master isn't here, he would've Crucio'd you for falling asleep in a meeting." Nott Sr. remarked, eyeing Crabbe Jr. with disdain. Fear licked at Draco's stomach at the words, but he pushed it down, regarding Theo's father with practiced boredom as he delicately sipped his whisky.

"And what punishment would he be handing to you, Nott?" Draco watched his godfather materialise out of a shadowy corner, where he had been sat looking at maps and largely ignoring the other Death Eater's festivities.

"What do you mean by that?" Nott Sr. growled softly, the calmness of his tone betrayed by the rapid twitch in his clenched jaw. The hulking man put his empty glass down on a mahogany side table and stood up slowly, circling towards the Potions professor with a dark look in his eyes.

"What I mean to say is – why is your son not here? I thought he was meant to be joining us this evening as well?" Snape egged on the older man, watching as his face began to turn a light shade of puce.

Several long seconds passed, before Theodore Nott Sr. waved his wand, instantly refilling his crystal tumbler, before downing the firewhisky, his eyes trained on Snape. Glass empty once more, he turned away and addressed the room with feigned casualness.

"My son has been taken ill and is on mandatory bed rest. I've had assurances from Headmistress Umbridge, a secret supporter of our cause, that he will be released as soon as he is fit."

"What's the matter with him?" Butted in Crabbe.

"Spattergroit, apparently. He's currently in isolation in the Hogwarts hospital wing." Nott Sr. shrugged, sitting back down; utterly unconcerned at the prospect of his son having a serious illness.

_Spattergroit, my arse._

Draco hid a smile.

"Well, we look forward to having him here when he's better; I'm sure Draco will be delighted to see his best friend!" Lucius ended the budding argument diplomatically, moving to stand behind Draco and clapping him on the shoulders.

"Now, more firewhisky anyone?" He offered, ever the gracious host, snapping his fingers and demanding another three bottles of Ogden's finest from the bowing house elf.

"Where are the girls, Lucius?" Avery slurred, almost fully reclined in his large leather chair.

"Yes, I've taken the liberty of ordering us some entertainment." Draco watched as his father clapped his hands and two scantily clad girls walked in, both glancing round the room with wide, fear-filled eyes. The taller girl was thin and pale, her strawberry blonde hair running in two plaits down her back, while the shorter girl was much curvier, with a curling mane of chestnut hair. Draco hid a grimace at her similarity to Hermione.

"And at that, I must return to Hogwarts." Snape glanced at his pocket watch, before shrugging his black robes on and gathering the maps up with a swirl of his wand.

"No, stay Severus, you work far too hard." Lucius prompted, trying to force another glass of firewhiskey into the Potions professor's hand. Snape declined, and with a parting glance at Draco, swept from the room in a swirl of black.

Draco reluctantly fixed his attention back on the rest of the room.

"Are these muggles?" Nott Sr. sneered, beckoning the brown-haired girl over as the other was pulled roughly onto Avery's lap.

"No, Lady Fortuna's finest, so don't be too rough."

Draco downed his whisky as Nott Sr. pushed the Hermione-like girl to her knees, forcing her to undo his trousers and pull out his hardening cock. Draco stared into the fireplace, trying to avoid watching as the ginger girl writhed on Avery's lap, her small breasts bouncing as she bit her lip in feigned pleasure.

On the carpet, the brunette choked, trying not to gag as Nott Sr. thrust into her open mouth with uncaring vigour.

"She looks rather like Potter's mudblood, don't you think Draco?" Lucius whispered from behind him, his voice silvery and snakelike in the hazy room. Draco met his father's eyes in the large mirror above the fireplace; taking in Lucius' twisted smirk and his own serious face, his skin ashy grey.

"Do you want to go next Draco? I know you've always dreamed of fucking the mudblood. Even if it is pretend, you can get her back for all those years of rivalry." His father's voice had a dangerous undertone to it, and Draco realised with startling clarity that Lucius was very, very drunk; saying things he would never say when sober.

On the other side of the room, the brunette squealed as Nott Sr. entered her roughly from behind. Beside him on the sofa, Draco felt Crabbe stiffen as he watched his father saunter over to take his turn with the girl's mouth. Glancing at his housemate, who had always shown a rather acute streak of cruelty at school, Draco was surprised to see the horrified glaze in Crabbe's brown eyes, and the same ashy pallor to his skin. It seemed his fellow Slytherin, who just this morning had been delighted at being pulled out of Hogwarts to join the Death Eaters, was now regretting his father's decision. Draco almost felt sorry for him, he'd always been something of an idiot.

_I can't take much more of this…_

He abruptly stood up, summoning the whiskey from the other side of the room with a flick of his wand.

"I'd rather not debase myself with whores, father." He glanced round with unfeigned disgust, filling up Lucius' glass to the brim with the amber liquid. Taking a bottle of firewhiskey for himself, he strode out of the room. With any luck, they'd both have little memory of this in the morning.

* * *

 

Hermione hovered by the hospital wing, desperately wishing she could hear what was being said inside, although she had a good guess: Theo was expected to join the Death Eaters too, and McGonagall was going to put a stop to it.

_I wish Draco had been ill and Theo had been the one to be sent back…_

She felt a stab on guilt at the thought; but her guts twisted at the idea of Draco stuck there, and the kind of horrors he might be having to put up with. A small part of her conceded she'd do almost anything to keep Draco safe.

She tried to think of Theo's fresh, pink scars, the anxiety in his dark eyes, and pushed the intrusive thoughts down. However much she hated to admit it, Draco would fare much better than Theo in that evil den of snakes.

"Hermione!"

She turned at the shout to see Harry careening down the hallway towards her, Ron hot on his tail.

"Hermione! Are you alright?" Harry asked worriedly, slowing to a stop in front of her.

"Harry said Snape asked to talk to you, and then you walked out  _crying_ -!" Ron began in a hurry, out of breath from running over.

"And when we realised you weren't at dinner we came to look for you." Harry finished, eyeing her closely.

"I'm  _fine_!" She replied, pulling them into a quick, three-way hug and throwing in a faux-careless laugh for good measure. "This ministry application has really stressed me out, and then Snape was horrible and told me my potions marks were lower than expected. I was just rather overwhelmed." She released them with a tight smile, reciting the lies she'd come up with in the bath earlier.

"But what were you doing at the hospital wing?" Harry asked, puzzled and still not convinced; Hermione  _was_ prone to fits of hysteria, particularly when relating to school work, but she'd been acting much stranger than usual recently.

"Oh, I came to get some calming draught from Madam Pomfrey." She replied breezily, trying to feign the utter relaxation that the potion brought.

"You work too hard." Ron replied concernedly as Harry nodded emphatically in agreement. Ron reached forward and awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. She bit back an automatic scathing response to his statement; Ron was just being kind, and this was the first time he had shown even an inkling of their old friendship since the Lavender incident.

"Have you two eaten? There's still fifteen minutes of dinner left." Hermione asked.

"No, we came to find you straight away." Ron replied, a warmth spreading throughout Hermione at his words.

"What a sacrifice!" She joked, linking arms with her two best friends. She'd missed their closeness, realising how little she'd seen of both of her boys recently.

"C'mon, lets get some food." Harry smiled at them both as they setting off down the corridor, a trio once more.

(x) (x) (x)

Twenty minutes later and Hermione watched as Ron pushed his empty plate away with a groan. He'd devoured his pork chops and mash within minutes, appearing on the brink of starvation to anyone who didn't know him well.

"We need to talk, something's come up." Harry whispered quietly, pushing his own plate away from him as the last few people left the hall.

"Alright, but don't you two have Quidditch practice?" Hermione asked, checking her watch.

"I gave the team the night off." Harry shrugged, waving his wand in a quick muffliato.

"What? Why?" Hermione asked, puzzled. A night off from Quidditch practice was unheard of for Harry, especially days before a big Slytherin game.

"This is what we need to talk about – Malfoy's been pulled out of school-"

"Yeah, and the snakes are sending Pike on as replacement Seeker – we'll wipe the floor with them." Ron interrupted, laughing.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I don't care about Quidditch right now." Harry replied, grimly. "Malfoy's obviously been sent home for a reason, the Death Eaters must be gearing up for something."

Hermione bit her lip, lost for words. Harry was right, of course, but how could she react without admitting prior knowledge of the situation? She eventually settled on the harmless 'What's Dumbledore said?' hoping it sounded vague enough, but still helpful.

"Nothing. All I've heard from the Order is just Lupin telling me to keep my head down and focus on my studies. They won't tell me anything proper." Harry sighed dejectedly.

"Malfoy's probably loving it, being taken out of school to be a Death Eater alongside daddy, the smug git." Ron blurted out. With that, the harmonic spell was broken.

"Whatever's happening, Dra- Malfoy's  _not_  a Death Eater." She slammed her goblet of pumpkin juice back on the trestle table, ignoring as it splashed onto Harry's hands.

"He's a nasty little git, I don't know why you're so defensive of him." Ron sniped, looking at Hermione scornfully.

"He called you a mudblood Hermione, and teased you mercilessly. And remember what happened in second year?" He continued, tone softer. Her cheeks flushed and she couldn't meet Ron's bright blue eyes – she knew he was only looking out for her.

_He can't see how different Draco is now… and he'll never accept us being together…_ She pushed down the tears that threatened to spill.

"I just think he's changed, that's all." She muttered meekly, swallowing down the lump in her throat. Sensing Harry and Ron exchanging looks, she looked back up, glaring at them determinedly, intent on changing the subject away from Draco.

"Alright, let's say you're right. What are  _we_  going to do about it, stuck here at Hogwarts?" She continued, frustrated, shifting her expectantly gaze between Harry and Ron. Ron immediately turned, looking towards Harry for guidance, who stayed quiet in the face of Hermione's indefensible logic. She softened at his defeated look, his messy, dark hair hanging low over his green eyes.

"I think you're right Harry, about the Death Eaters planning, not about Malfoy, but I just don't think there's much we can do. I know it's frustrating." She looked at him sympathetically, reaching a hand across to pat his arm. Harry nodded in resignation.

"Just-just stay alert, ok?" He looked at her sharply suddenly, that familiar inkling of suspicion hiding in his bright eyes.

"Of course, we both will." She glanced at Ron. "Look, I'll start researching more defensive spells, anything that might be useful. We could always find somewhere to do a bit of duel practice, if you think it'll make you feel more useful?"

"There's an empty classroom at the end of the fourth floor corridor, no one ever goes in there, we can use it to practice spells." Ron offered, his spat with Hermione quickly forgotten. Harry nodded in agreement, looking determined.

"In the meantime, we should do what Lupin says, keep our heads down and keep working." Hermione concluded, ignoring her friends' eye rolls at her typical insistence of constant schoolwork. It had purpose though – as long as she could keep Harry busy studying, she could keep him out of trouble; it was the method she'd tried to employ since day one of their friendship, and it seemed to work, at least in part. Plus, if she could keep Harry and Ron distracted, she could focus on the more pressing matters at hand, namely Draco being roped into Voldemort's attempted resurrection.

"Did you see Neville when you came into the hall earlier? I need to ask him something." She glanced at her watch, making up a quick excuse to find their green-fingered friend.

"Yes, he said he was going to the greenhouses. He'd agreed to help Sprout do some pruning, I think?" Harry replied, watching as she stood up and smoothed her robes down. "We'll walk with you, fancy a fly around the pitch, mate?" He glanced at Ron, his eyes unsubtly wide at the unspoken prompt.

"But Lav-" Ron began, and Hermione pretended not to notice as Harry aimed a swift kick at his leg. "Ow! Yes, fine."

Judging by his unmistakable effort to make sure she was actually doing what she said she was, Harry's suspicion at her behaviour was clearly still going strong.

The boys stood up, joining Hermione in gathering their stuff. Leaving the great hall, the trio strolled out of the castle into the warm spring evening. Hermione couldn't help laughing as the boys frogmarched her down through the grounds like her own personal bodyguards, clearly intent on escorting her straight to the door of the greenhouse.

"The Death Eaters aren't attacking yet you know!" She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, but you can never be too careful." Harry replied, sheepishly, as they neared Greenhouse number one. She stepped forward to go in, turning back as Harry and Ron hovered by the door.

"I'll be fine from here, you go off and do your flying practice. I'll come and watch when I'm done, I only want a quick word." She smiled, not waiting for them to reply before turning and hurrying through the glass door.

She couldn't stop her eyes from flicking towards the raised platform at the back of the room, memories of her first night with Draco swimming through her mind as her gut clenched with that familiar worry; all she wanted was to have him back. Wrenching her eyes away, she spotted the familiar brown head bowed over a row of large, flowering plants.

"Neville!" He looked up, startled, his face softening into a beaming smile as she hurried over.

"Hi, Hermione." He put down his shears, pulling off his tough, dragon-hide gloves as she stopped in front of him. "I heard about Draco. What can I do to help?"

Hermione could have cried at the earnest expression on his face.

"It's about that – meet me in the library on Saturday at 2, when everyone is at the Quidditch match, it'll be safe to talk then." She glanced round, worried of someone bursting in and overhearing her. "Bring Blaise, and I can explain everything properly."

Neville nodded solemnly.

"I hope you're alright Hermione." He looked at her, his eyes dark with worry.

"I'll be fine; it's Draco I'm worried about." She grimaced.

"Do you want to help me prune the Angel's Trumpets? I find gardening to be very therapeutic in times like these."

She bit back a smile.

"Thanks, but I said I'd watch Harry and Ron practice. I suppose it'll make up for me missing the game, not that they'll know!"

"Alright, see you later, Hermione. I'll let Blaise know about Saturday." Neville said, turning his back to her with a parting smile as he began to conjure jets of water to sprinkle over the rows of plants.

Hermione turned and left silently, shooting a parting glance at the raised dais at the back of the room, her mind filled with images of a boy with shining white hair.

* * *

 

"Alright, so let me get this straight – Drake's been dragged home so Lucius and the gang can resurrect He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and bring him back to power. He's stuck there until he either escapes, or is forced to become a Death Eater, yes?" Blaise started across at Hermione, one manicured eyebrow arched in question.

"Yes, pretty much." She replied, staring across at the charismatic Slytherin.

"Shit." Blaise slumped back into his chair, looking slightly shocked, as if he'd secretly hoped she'd burst out laughing and say it was all a jest. Hermione looked round at the gathered group, taking in their grim expressions. The sun streamed through the stained-glass window and across the large oak table; the four of them had picked a spot at the back of the deserted library, away from Madam Pince's prying eyes. The noise from the Quidditch match was a distant roar, occasional shouts and cheers punctuating their serious discussion. Neville and Blaise sat together on one side, totally platonic in appearance minus their subtle physical closeness – a shoulder touch here, a secret smile there, their chairs pushed together to form some kind of uncomfortable loveseat. Luna sat next to Hermione, her delicate fingers tracing patterns on the wooden table top while her light blue eyes darted about manically.

"What about Theo? I heard he's got Spattergroit, but we know that's not true…?" Neville piped up, curling into his boyfriend's side.

"Luna can tell us." Hermione turned and looked at the dreamy Ravenclaw expectantly. Her fingers stopped tracing along the wood grain immediately, her hands clasping together anxiously instead.

"Well, Theo was about to be released on Wednesday, after dinner. But then Professor McGonagall ran in, you were there for that-" She glanced at Hermione briefly, who nodded reassuringly. "-she told Theo that his father had demanded he be released from school as well, to join them at Malfoy Manor. McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey came up with the Spattergroit lie to keep him safe from the Death Eaters, here at Hogwarts."

"But howdoes McGonagall know about what's going on at Malfoy Manor?" Blaise asked, his hands spread wide in confusion.

"Snape… I think Snape's a spy for the Order." Hermione whispered, scared of being overheard even with the silencing spell in place.

"What? He can't be!" Neville burst out, staring at her in shock. Hermione knew how much he feared their potions professor, and in Neville's eyes he was the embodiment of villainy and malice.

"It's the only thing that makes sense. Plus, Draco trusts him, and Snape basically confirmed it himself when he talked to me."

"If that's the Order's best hope… we're fucked." Blaise swore, laughing mirthlessly.

"But, I thought Snape was a Death Eater." Neville stared at Hermione, wide-eyed. She could almost see the cogs in his brain turning as he puzzled over her revelation.

"I know… it's all so confusing and awful." She sighed, pressing the heels of her hands over her eyes, hard.

_Think, think, think!_

"Why don't we see if we can plan it all out? See if there's anything we might be able to do. It'll make us feel useful." She felt Luna tentatively touch her shoulder, comfortingly, her soft voice lilting out the suggestion. Her head shot out of her hands.

"Yes! Good idea Luna." She bent down and hurriedly rummaged through her satchel, which rested by the foot of her chair, emerging triumphantly with a battered journal.

"I've written down all the points of information that Draco's letters held, plus anything useful Snape said." She flicked through the notebook's pages, landing on one filled with rows of bullet points. She scanned the list, picked out one that had been intriguing her, figuring it was as good a place to start as any.

"He mentioned that Pettigrew thinks Voldemort is in Eastern Europe somewhere, does anyone know why that might be?"

"There's an old rumour that Helena Ravenclaw -you know, Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter- ran away to somewhere in Eastern Europe to escape her Mother. Could that be linked, d'you think?" Luna smiled hopefully.

"I suppose; we don't have much else to go on…"

"I'll ask around, subtly, see if my Mother knows anything." Blaise said, nodding at Hermione.

"Great! I'll start on some general research here in the Library, see if I can pick anything up."

"I'll help you look. It won't be suspicious if we're seen working together." Neville said.

"Thanks Nev-" She began, flashing him a thankful smile as a loud roar emanated from the Quidditch pitch outside.

"The game must be over." Luna guessed. Blaise got up languidly, stretched, and walked over to the large window, peering through one of the clear frames.

"Slytherin's lost. No surprise there, Pike couldn't find the Snitch even with a Niffler's help."

Neville and Hermione shot each other anxious glances. They had to make it down to the pitch before everyone realised they had missed the match.

"We've got to go." Hermione stood up, shoving her notebook hastily into her satchel and throwing it over her shoulder.

"But wait, how will we contact each other?" Luna said.

"Oh right, yes!" Hermione turned back, plonking her bag down on the table as she rooted around in it, emerging seconds later clutching four gold Galleons and handing them out. "I've charmed these so we can communicate. You see the numerals around the edge of the coins? On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of when we can next meet."

"This is quite advanced magic." Blaise said, clearly impressed as he turned the coin between his fingers.

"It was just a simple Geminio charm." Hermione blustered, grabbing her satchel with a smile. "Ready Nev?"

The pair bid goodbye to Luna and Blaise before setting off at a run, hoping to make it near the pitch in time to convince everyone they'd seen (and enjoyed) the match.

* * *

 

"Merlin, I can't find anything in this one!" Hermione groaned, slamming the dusty tome shut, plucking another book off a tottering pile and opening it.

"Me neither." Neville sighed, pushing his notebook away and slumping back in his chair. She and Neville had spent the last month trawling through all the books they felt might be in any way relevant, with occasional input from Luna and Blaise. They tried to meet at least once a week, if even for a few minutes, so Hermione culd keep them updated on Draco and they could all share any information they'd found out.

Theo was still in isolation in the hospital wing, bored out of his mind according to Luna, but safe as long as everyone continued to believe his horrendous bout of Spattergroit. Draco too was still stuck at Malfoy Manor, forced to watch his father and the fellow Death Eaters plan, every day coming one step closer to resurrecting the Dark Lord. His frequent letters were still upbeat, and loving, but she could tell that being there was taking its toll on him.

"I just don't understand the significance of Albania; why would Pettigrew go there to look?" She looked across at Neville, rehashing the same discussion they seemed to have daily, since they'd found out from Draco that Albania was where the Death Eaters were focusing their search.

"Maybe there is some merit in Luna's theory about Helena Ravenclaw. The Grey Lady even confirmed that's where she, and the Bloody Baron died. Why would they all choose to travel to such a random destination?" Neville replied. Luna had taken to badgering the Hogwarts ghosts for information, little that they seemed to know.

"Voldemort has got no connection to Ravenclaw, but could there be a specific reason he's chosen to follow in Helena's footsteps?" Hermione theorised, scribbling a note in her open journal. "We know he's attracted to powerful magical sources –look at the Philosopher's Stone, for instance– could it be something like that that's drawn him there."

"If there even is a 'him' to speak of, I mean we all thought he was dead. Does he even have a body?"

Hermione sighed, making another note in her book. The ancient book's tiny script started to swim before her eyes and she closed them blearily, bending down and resting her head on the cool parchment.

"Why don't we take a break? You're working too hard Hermione." Neville patted her outstretched hand, which still tightly clutched her quill, poised for more note-taking.

She bit back a sharp retort, instead raising her head and smiling weakly at the boy in front of her.

_Maybe Neville's right…_

She knew she looked like a wreck, her eyes were dark hollows and her skin was patchy, mottled and pale. She'd caught Lavender and Parvati exchanging glances as they watched her looking in the mirror a few days earlier. She hadn't been sleeping well, even though she was exhausted from busy days of studying, class and endless research, and she'd had a recurring dizziness that didn't seem to want to shift, as well as a kind of persistent queasiness. She'd tried to ignore it, pushing on to get more research done. Draco needed her help, and she was going to give it.

"It's dinner soon, how about we leave this and go down early? Its beef stew and dumplings tonight, isn't that one of your favourites?"

Her stomach churned at the thought of food, particularly stew and dumplings, which she'd totally lost her appetite for over the last week or so.

"Good idea." She plastered on what she hoped was a convincing smile, pulling her bag towards her. She was immersed in packing her satchel, gathering the books together; sorting out which ones she'd take to read tonight and which ones she'd re-shelve, when Neville's cautious call of her name pulled her out of her thoughts. She glanced up at her fellow Gryffindor, seeing him look over her shoulder with a worried expression, his face suddenly pale. She turned around.

Harry was storming towards her, his green eyes blazing. Her gaze dropped to his right hand, in which a bundle of letters was tightly clutched, crumpled and falling apart as if hastily read.

"Harry – I can explain, please-"

He marched forward, brandishing the letters in his raised fist. Hermione stumbled back into the table, blinking rapidly.

"What the hell is going on?" He didn't let her reply, instead angrily continuing:

"With him? Really? I knew you'd been acting strange and  _this_ is the reason, your infatuation with Malfoy? A Death-Eater?" He shook his head, a muscle in his clenched jaw twitching erratically.

"I can't believe this." He said in a quieter voice, shaking his head. He threw the letters down on the heavy oak table in a parting gesture, before turning and walking away slowly.

"Harry, please-" She bolted up, intent on running after him, but as soon as she was out of her chair that familiar dizzy light-headedness returned, making the room spin around her as if enchanted. She took one wobbly step forward, reaching out to the table for support, but it wasn't where she thought it was. Her vision went blurry as she tumbled into a heap on the floor, Neville's gasp of her name and then Harry's panicked cry the last things she heard as the creeping blackness overcame her...

* * *

**A/N: Some of the dialog about the Geminio'd Galleon is taken from Order of the Phoenix.**


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